In Pursuit
by The Lonesome Rose
Summary: There were too many questions after Manilla. Only one other agent seemed to be the answer. The trouble? How to find him.
1. Introduction

**PROLOGUE**

Sometimes the fates of people are intertwined; sometimes one person can make all the difference. One word, one act, can cause life or death for someone barely related.

So is the story of Jason Bourne to Aaron Cross. Back in the days, they were nothing to each other but another agent. Maybe a name the other saw somewhere. Maybe a few hints from his handlers getting edgy.

Back in the old days when they were both invested in the program—one by force, one by choice—only to come to the same end. They never crossed paths, never really were aware each other existed. Why should they be?

No more.

Too many questions bombard Cross when he reflects on the past week. An assassin in Manila. Why? What had he done to make his handlers so edgy? Dr. Shearing was the other piece of the puzzle. Why did they want her dead? What information had she come close to unearthing?

Bourne. Jason Bourne.

He'd heard the name. Never thought much about it. But now Bourne is another clue to the solution. And the only way he's going to find anything is if he finds the other agent.

Bourne. Find Jason Bourne.


	2. The Aftermath

_"Do you even know why you're supposed to kill me? Look at us. Look at what they make you give."_

_ -Jason Bourne, Bourne Ultimatum_

_"I gave them everything. We both did."_

_ -Aaron Cross, Bourne Legacy_

Aaron rose with the sunrise—didn't have to of course—but it felt wrong to be idle. Too many questions buzzed in his mind, penetrated his dreams, demanding to be answered. And the question of what was his next move. Hadn't Treadstone just moved their queen, bringing in the hired assassin to take him out—there wasn't any other explanation for that. And the drone plane back in Alaska. And the bastards trying to stage Marta in a suicide. All the paths were leading towards something. A confrontation? No, he didn't want to give them a clean shot. Not yet. Not until he was ready, and knew why.

The boat rolled on the waves, endlessly rocking up down, up down… he'd been on a few so he wasn't the type to get seasick. Marta hadn't taken too well to it the first day. Just how long is she staying, he wondered as he leaned over the railing watching a couple seagulls frisking over a fish. Is she just thrown in the middle of this because of me? She could've left. She could've left me to them.

"Aaron?"

You could've left… you should've left.

"Aaron"

"What made you stay?" he says it aloud without meaning to. She was just a route of access to him at first; and…wasn't he just a method of survival, of protection to her? He hears her move, sees her hand come to rest about six inches from his. "You could've left me back there."

"At this point, I'm in it nearly as deep as you are."

"What? Hang around with the ex-agent. Risk your life to throw your die in with him?" he cracks half a smile, moving his hand just close enough for their fingertips to touch.

"It works both ways, you know."

"Probably"

She didn't reply at first. She came closer, turned his hand to trace a fading scar on his palm. "I know I said I wanted to be lost, but not that kind. You can't put this behind you, can you?"

He shook his head and turns to face her. "I need to figure out why. All these questions, all these instances converging…"

"Into what?"

"I don't know" he admitted. "All I know is they want us dead."

* * *

"What happened? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?" Eric Byer slammed the phone down when the correspondent on the other end fell to stammering the mantra _we don't know. Sir, we don't know._ He looked up when Deputy Landy came in, file in hand. "You'd better have good news for me."

"They found a body."

"Tell me it was Cross."

Landy's lip tightened. "It was LARX-03. We can't get the body until Manila PD gives us the green light. There's no sign of Cross anywhere. Or Dr. Shearing."

"How the hell did he take out LARX? Cross isn't an assassin, he's just an agent." His eyes roved over the papers on his desk that had accumulated over the course of this cat and mouse. How the hell had the mouse gotten so smart?

"They might be working together. Him and her"

"I want full visual of the area, their reports, everything they got, I need."

"It's going to take time. Byer, we're working as hard as we can but we're up against someone desperate. Cross has been playing like and agent with nothing to lose."

"We're bringing him in. I don't care how much effort it takes. I want him here. Offline. We've had too much liability with him already." Byer picked up the phone again. "_Now_ what? No, I don't want civilians. I want someone who can actually do something over there. We need that body, access to the area…no, any reporters come after this and you lure them away with something else. How should I know? Just have them follow the Bourne trail like everyone else!"

Landy kept her face neutral as he set the phone back down. "You should've killed Cross while you had the chance."

"Get me everything you've got on him."

She didn't move. "What about Jason Bourne?"

"What about him?"

"We lost track of him again."

Byer got up, moved over to the window overlooking the city. "Damn agents. Look, right now Bourne isn't our objective. He's collateral damage at this point. Get me something solid on Cross and don't show your face in here until you do."

He heard her leave. And, as his eyes scanned the city, he swallowed back the gut feeling of powerlessness. Everything would come undone unless he got these two agents.

Everything.


	3. Starting Over

_"Everything I found out, I want to forget."_

_-Jason Bourne, Bourne Identity_

They couldn't stay here forever, this suspended animation while the storm built up outside. The longer they waited the more likely they'd be found. No matter what happened now, she couldn't go back to Outcome. Even if they offered her a position again.

I was only in it for the science. At the time it had been just incredible. All the things we'd accomplished there—genetically modifying human beings. Who could have predicted that?—but he was right. Outside the lab, I never thought about what they were doing, what they were being _used_ for. They had the agents on a leash and I was part of it.

Marta drew the passports from the bag, flipping through them until she found the one for June Monroe. I could still get out. Make a new life. Stay low, don't draw attention. Aaron can handle himself. Wouldn't I only slow him down?

I can start over.

She tapped the wallet against her palm. License, credit cards, even membership cards. An entire life in her hands.

He'd said as much—walk away, try to pretend it didn't happen. Try to forget. But forget all that? How long would I last without him? That was the other catch—right now, he was her best shot at survival; and how long could she continue to rely on him…

Marta set the wallet back down.

I can't leave him. Not yet. Don't I owe him for everything Treadstone put him through? Oh he might deny it, but he knows…he knows I was part of them.

"Hey, doc, we'll port in a few minutes. Ready?" He picked took out his own wallet before he slung the bag over his shoulder and handed the other wallet back to her. "Are we still in this together?"

"Don't feel responsible for me."

"Can I help if you make an attractive appearance?"

She took it, unable to suppress a glare of indignation. "Who knows how many people on our tail and you've been waiting all this time to say that?"

"Or it's the first time you're actually listening."

* * *

She saw Aaron slip the fisherman a little more money after they'd docked at Tungkang. He'd more than earned it, saved their lives. She thanked him in what words she could. When she turned to face the crowds milling around—fishermen, tradesmen, tourists—she knew it was back to just her and Aaron. From now on, they couldn't count on anyone. Maybe not even police.

Had Treadstone gotten the alert on them yet? She stumbled climbing from the boat. Aaron, who she'd sworn had been behind, was suddenly in front and lightly grasping her forearms.

"It might take a few minutes to get used to steady land again." He lowered his voice, "stay close." He moved his hand to hers and guided her from the congestion.

Marta kept pace with him, keeping her eyes ahead not looking down. They were just two more people in the city going about their business.

We belong here. We belong here.

* * *

Aaron traced out their options on a map he'd acquired while they sat in the back table of a café. Given the time the passage here had taken, they were running short on time they were ahead of Treadstone. By now they'd have found the lack of bodies and would be mapping possible locations he and Dr. Shearing had taken.

There's no way we're going to find out anything here. Bourne will be in the U.S. We might be safer out here but answers never come to the cowardly.

He took one of the suncakes before pushing the plate towards Marta. "Here, you'll like these."

She wasn't even half done with the bowl of meat geng; he'd watched her chewing the chunks of pork too slowly, her other hand tightly gripping the napkin in her lap.

C'mon, doc, you've got to keep it together. He nudged her foot under the table and when she looked up at him, he pushed the plate closer. "Better get one before I eat them all."

"And it's…"

"It's like a pastry." He took another bite of his. "Think of it as an Asian Twinkie… only it's better for you."

She snorted lightly. "All that intelligence and _that's_ the best you can come up with?"

"Social etiquette wasn't one of the program outcomes," he said, with a shrug taking a second pastry. He smiled when he saw her try one and looked back at the map. "Maybe that's your next job in genetics. Wire up some chems to make subjects more polite."

"I'm done with chems."

"Good cause I wouldn't be one of the test subjects. Look… we've got to get back to the states."

She met his eyes questioningly. "You said we couldn't afford airports."

"I said it wouldn't help our assets but there's enough saved up now." The café was decently full, but with the murmur of the other patrons, Aaron doubted anyone would pay attention to them. Still, it didn't hurt to be careful. "Just one flight. We can cover for two tickets. Trust me."

Some of the tension faded from her face when he nudged her again. "You're sure about this."

Aaron pulled his phone out and thumbed through the photos until he came to the one of Jason Bourne. "Ever see this agent? You said there were five more in Outcome. Was he one of them?"

"I've never seen him before."

"Maybe he's with another program but he's definitely linked somehow. We need to find him. Whatever's going on, he knows."

"Airport" she said, her tone still unsure but he could tell she'd trust him.

"You can do this."


	4. Ghosts

**Thank you to The Cocky Undead and MonykaRules for the reviews and everyone who favorited. :) **

**And Happy 42th Birthday Jeremy!**

* * *

_"The objectives and targets always came from us. Who's giving them to him now"_

_"Scary version? He is."_

_-Landy and Nicki, Bourne Supremacy_

He was after her. Relentless. She was the only one left.

She cowered under the desk, knees pulled up to her chest, eyes closed and forcing breaths through her nose. The dull thuds of his footsteps were across the lab. Then right above her.

"Dr. Shearing…" his voice was a low growl. "Don't draw this out."

Then there was silence.

Marta risked a glance. Almost screamed. The cold, empty eyes of a killer stared back at her from behind a gun. His mouth slithered into a smile. "_There you are_."

"Don't do this. You don't have to do this. Just let me go," she said, on verge of hysteria. "Please…please… let me go…"

He took her face in one hand, fingers gripping hard when she tried to pull away.

"Doc…hey, hey… you're okay"

Marta started away, breathing hard and stared at Aaron who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You're okay. It's just a nightmare." He pulled her close and rubbed circles on her back. "You're fine. He can't get you again."

"It was there… _real_"

"They always are. He's gone, doc. He won't get you again. None of them will. Okay?"

She nodded slowly, focusing on the steady movements of his hand on her. Soothing, gentle, caring…

"I'll be right here. No one's going to get in." He pulled back.

"Aaron?" she eased up on her elbows when he stood up. "Can you…"

"What? Just like that? Doc…" he came closer, a question in his voice. "Marta"

She held out her hand to him in silent pleading. "It was horrible…everything was normal and then he killed them all. Just like that. Just started shooting. I saw them die…" she made a fist and dropped her hand to the bed; eyes closed tight again the rising memories. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't…I mean, I should try harder." She could remember all the staff who'd been trapped there. Her last conversations with all of them.

She drew in a shaky breath when the weight of the bed shifted and her hand was uncurled so fingers could twine in hers.

"You don't have to deal with this alone, Marta. You'll get through this. I promise. I won't let them get you again." He moved closer, pressing his forehead to hers. "Tell me as much as you need to."

And slowly she relayed the events to him. Everything she'd felt, seen, heard… the fear, the crack of each gunshot, the screams of her colleagues, hoping to all the heavens that he wouldn't see her…his eyes, devoid of humanity and she'd known him…she'd worked with him…

_And how could he do that_…

Aaron said little beyond some whispered words of encouragement when she paused for breaths, holding her hand tighter. Just feeling him close was enough for her. "You aren't alone anymore."

"They would've killed me if you hadn't been there."

"Shh…just calm down. It's all over. You don't need to be afraid of him anymore."

Marta drew in a shuddering breath, leaning in closer to him when Aaron drew an arm around her and tried to sleep. She'd need it together by morning if they were going to leave here. "You don't have to do this. Aaron…you've done enough…"

"No less than what you've done for me. C'mon…get some sleep." He pulled a blanket over her and even as Marta slowly drifted to sleep, he continued to hold her close.

* * *

As far as he could remember, Cross had always been too inquisitive. He might've said yes to the program but who knows how long that full consent had been there. Making the agents smarter hadn't been the best idea after all. Too much inconsistency, too much free will.

Byer was ready to start over. LARX could be fully backed at this point. Suppose he converted Cross to the beta programming? If this agent was so resourceful, he could use that. The problem with Cross was his memories—as long as the agent remembered everything, he was useless. Just another field agent that had gotten too smart.

Of course when you give the scarecrow a brain he starts thinking deep thoughts and starts wondering why he's tied to that post in the first place.

Initiate full advancement of the program. Agents to take down these old agents, but this time there won't be any viralling off. These agents have to be completely dependent on us. No questions and complete obedience. We'd better still have the resources for that. Second stage to be effective…one month? Two weeks?

Byer ran through the calculations again. They needed faster results.

He snatched up the phone when it rang, desperate for progress,

"What have you got this time?"

"More than you've got. Looks like you're having a hard time tying up loose ends."

Byer froze, dropping the files. "_Bourne_"

"Byer" said Bourne evenly. "You think I haven't been watching you. When are you going to learn that you can't just play with lives?"

"How about you come to my office and we'll talk about it over coffee." He moved for the door. "I imagine that you and I have quite a lot to talk about."

"You aren't going to trace this call. You aren't going to call anyone over."

Byer frowned, sitting back down. Damn this agent. "So the rumor you'd left New York…"

"Just a rumor. There's too much going on here."

"And you're going to play Hardy Boy and call me out on it? Really, Bourne…why not just give up, walk away."

His tone darkened. "Even if I wanted to, I know you'd never let me. Maybe I'm in this just as much as you are. Only…I'm not the bad guy."

"No, you're just the fugitive." He opened the file on Bourne and glared down at the photo. "If you've got anything you care about, you're going to lose it."

"I already have nothing left to lose. But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

The call ended.

Byer slammed the phone down and yelled for Landy. "Get an APB out. I want every spare person here out in the city looking for this son of a bitch."

"Who?"

He turned away. "Bourne's still in the city. I want him found. I want him brought here or brought down. No questions, no rights. _Now_."


	5. Prospects

_"You start down this path, where does it end?"_

_"It ends when we've won."_

_-Landy and Vosen, Bourne Ultimatum_

Nicolette Parsons wasn't sure why Byer had chosen to keep her around at all—least of all as one of his primary contacts to sort out "this Bourne disaster" he called it in a good mood. She wondered if he suspected her full past involvement with Bourne or whether she was only still around so they could keep an eye on her. Or maybe he was waiting to "debrief" her on Bourne's true nature—learn how to track him down, what were his motivations and the like. It wasn't right what they'd done, what they were doing. Parsons had had enough of it, but her better chance was to endure it for now. Four outcome agents down and two more in process of capture. If she had a way to contact Cross, she'd warn him away. She'd tried telling Bourne but he never listened.

The trouble with him is that he wants to know. He'd bring down Treadstone and byer by himself if it were possible. Marie's legacy, I suppose.

She'd heard about the bomb and had her own suspicions about its origins.

They were trying to rein Bourne in. Call him off, shut him down. They should've thought out that plan more. Byer might call himself a genius but he makes the worst mistakes in his "best interests". Nothing's easy with Bourne.

* * *

At a half past one, Parsons played final consolations to Byer's whims then excused herself for lunch. She stopped at a diner several blocks from the headquarters and ordered a chicken salad while she waited. Fifteen minutes later, he showed up.

"How did the court proceedings go?"

"They didn't have enough to go on. Odd thing…all the files they'd accused me of taking were right where they should be." She dipped her head towards him. "Thank you for that."

"I need someone on the inside." He pushed a key towards her. "You'd better replace that."

"They're going to be looking for you more now, Jason. I know that's what you wanted, but…" Parsons paused for a bite of salad, collecting her words. "Byer's obsessive about finishing this. Everything he's doing now is about one reason. _One reason_, Jason…and that's to take you out."

Bourne's attention wandered past her to the diner, to the streets outside then back again. "There's one end to this. There can only be one and that's when Byer's finished. When he's paid for everything, when he's paid for the lives he took" his voice trembled with emotion. Parsons could see the mark of loss in his eyes as he let his guard down with the words. "He took my memories, took my life, took Marie and I'm only one. Who knows how many other agents he's done this to."

"Then you're in it for revenge." She regarded him steadily, praying her last chance wasn't falling apart. None of them could take down Byer and Treadstone by themselves. "You say you're different but at the bottom you and Byer aren't all that far apart. He's in it for revenge against you. All of this? All those dead agents? _You_ forced his hand."

Bourne's expression shifted. It was a subtle tightening of the mouth, the smallest creasing of his forehead that Parsons had come to associate with intensity. "Nicky"

She ignored it and pushed her chair back to stand. "Jason, have you listened to yourself? Maybe you can delude yourself with other reasons, but I know it's about him. About Marie."

"You're wrong."

"Then tell me this" she stared him down, wanting to intimidate him a little, though with an agent like Bourne she suspected that was near impossible "if your goal isn't to strip all this away from Byer just to humiliate him, just to get at him close enough to pull a trigger, then what is it? You want to call him out, _fine_ –so do I—but are you going to let the government deal with him or are you going to enact punishment yourself?"

"What he's done isn't excusable. He's played, is _still playing, _with lives."

"If you mean that… prove it." She collected her belongings and gave him a final cold look.

If he's no better than Byer, I'll try again to get those documents in the open. There's other ways.

"Nicky…I'll prove it. I'll need your help."

One more chance, Jason. If this doesn't work, you're on your own. "How will I know what to do?"

He smiled slightly. "I'll contact you." 


	6. Understanding Her

**One of the most fascinating parts of ****_The Bourne Legacy_**** for me was Aaron and Marta's relationship. As soon as she viralled him out, either of them could've left at any time. And no matter how dangerous it was, they stayed together. Maybe their best chance at survival was staying together, but I think it's more. At least, it should be interesting to see where that relationship is taken in the sequel. **

**As far as the short chapters go, long chapters tempt too much towards revision. And college coursework really can put a limit on writing time. So I take what I can get. ;) **

_"Look at me. You can make it. You're a warrior. You can make it. Okay? …You've done enough for me."_

_-Aaron, Bourne Legacy_

He couldn't keep her for this. She needed stability, time to grieve, time to come to an understanding of her situation, not to be dragged back into this mess with Treadstone. What if there was another assassin, what if they targeted her to reach him, what if…what if they made her suffer?

Why am I really keeping her around? For my benefit or hers? She could've walked away when I told her; she should've walked away. This shouldn't be her fight.

Aaron was afraid of the answer. If he questioned himself too much he'd find it and he thought, no he _knew_ it would be an answer he didn't want to know. He had to let her go.

Marta stirred against him. She was curled into his side and Aaron swallowed back longing when he stared down at their intertwined hands. All she'd needed was someone to listen, to be there for her. To tell her that he was looking out for her.

I'm not ready to leave you. I don't want to be alone.

He knew it was selfish, but they'd been through so much of this together already. And she'd saved him from the degrade. He'd had nightmares about it in training. To have all that intelligence and then to fall… too far. If he'd gone to anyone else, would they have helped him?

In some ways, she's just as much a victim as I am. A victim of ignorance and lies and withholding information. All because of science.

He brushed his thumb over hers, enjoying seeing her in peace. He'd have to leave her behind. If he cared at all, if he wanted her to be safe… there was no way he could let himself bring her through to the end. They had their own ways to go. Not together.

You helped me more than you know, Marta. It's more than the viralling off. You were there for me when you didn't have to be. I told you to leave…you didn't. When I needed you, you were there.

"You don't owe me anymore." Aaron pulled his hand from hers and pushed her away from him, trying to disturb her as little as possible. He needed to be alone, to think. Aaron stayed only long enough to jot down a quick note for her and to look back one last time. Regretful. "The longer this goes on, the harder it'll be to walk away."

* * *

When she felt her hand empty, she jolted awake. "Aaron" Marta sat up, eyes roaming the empty room. "Aaron?" She kept worrying that he'd leave her. No, why should he stay. There's nothing tying him down. There isn't… he wouldn't…

She pushed back the blankets and traced a few wrinkles from the sheets. His side of the bed still held faint traces of warmth. He'd been there all night.

Forcing away the doubts, Marta went to the sink to splash water onto her face. She pulled off the note stuck to the mirror.

_Went for a walk. Be back soon. Don't get into trouble until I get back. _

What's the fun of getting into trouble if you aren't there to pull us both out? She smiled a little at the thought.

* * *

It was a little disconcerting to come back and find her not there. Aaron hoped Marta wasn't planning to take the not-getting-into-trouble warning too seriously. Manila had had the big bang finale; they really didn't need to repeat that here.

He pulled out his laptop and began checking airlines. The closest was Taichung airport, which would take them to Hong Kong where they could catch a flight to the U.S. It couldn't hurt to stretch out the trail a bit if anyone was watching.

Two tickets. One. He thought about just leaving it at one for several seconds, but he couldn't leave her yet. Not here.

No matter how dangerous it would be later on. He didn't look up when he heard the door open. "Flight's in three hours. We'll go to Hong Kong then reroute from there. Tell me no one chased you or otherwise looked suspicious." He couldn't resist mocking just a little.

"If there was, I'd have brought them back with me."

"I doubt they'd send anyone else yet. They probably haven't even caught on to where we are. Pity for them, good for us."

"They'll send another assassin?" there was an edge of worry to her voice.

"When they know where we are."

Marta drew closer to set a bag on the table. "You might've gone out before, but I doubt it involved food so I brought you some back. You're welcome."  
"You went shopping in Tungkang, Taiwan by yourself," he said with surprise. "Is what you bought edible?"

Marta huffed in mock annoyance and swiped the bag from him. "Well if you don't want it…"

"I never said I _didn't_…"

"If you suppose you could find something better, by all means"

"_Marta_"

"_Aaron_"

Shaking his head, he got up. "Enjoy that. I'll find something."

She laughed and handed the bag back to him. "I'd love to see you out there shopping in a place you know nothing about and see if you couldn't try to do _half_ as well."

"We're leaving in a few hours. I could."

"You couldn't." Marta stole a pastry from the bag and the chair he'd just vacated. "Hong Kong, you said? Where to after that?"

He pulled a pastry out and threw her a _you've got to be kidding_ look.

"_What_?"

"We're in another country and you resort to American." Aaron bit into the cinnamon roll.

"Too American? That's a new one." She tapped away at the computer, checking the available flights from Hong Kong. "Are we sticking together or are you putting me on a different flight? Don't deny it."

He held back a reply. It wasn't the first time he'd thought about it, but the first time he was seriously considering it. She'd be safer.

"We were just a couple strangers who got thrown together."

"If we're strangers, then how is it I trust you with my life?"

You can't do this now. Start over and find someone and just forget… the words wouldn't come. Why? Did _he_…?

Aaron turned away. He couldn't let himself care like that.

"Maybe we were thrown together but you were my best chance of survival…" she trailed off. "You're the only one I can trust now. You walk away and then what? Take on Treadstone yourself?"

He checked his watch then went over to pick the backpack up from the floor. "Make sure you've got everything. We're leaving now."

"_And then what_, Aaron? You can't ignore the question."

"Oh so now all of a sudden you start thinking these things?" he turned back around, slinging the bag over his shoulder so he could cradle her face in his hands. "Marta…" as he met into her eyes, all he could think about was losing her. And he couldn't let it happen. "If I walked away, you'd be safer."

"Aaron, _I wouldn_'_t_." She smiled, reaching up to take one of his hands. "I'm safest when I'm with you."


	7. Justifications

**Sorry for the wait. Coursework is unforgiving. **

* * *

_"...we take the moral excrement that we find in this equation and we bury it down deep inside of us so that the rest of our cause can stay pure."_

_-Byer, Bourne Legacy_

When was the last time results like this had been close to being reached? Aside from… no. Does everything have to be compared to Bourne?

She sorted through the LARX files—where everything was perfect. All the results that couldn't be achieved through Treadstone or Outcome. Useless _smart_ agents. Too many emotional inconsistencies, moral questioning…

Landy stopped when the coronary reports fell out of file three. Several bullet wounds, internal injuries and LARX 3 had still pursued his target.

Incredible. We need to duplicate that.

For the most part, none of the LARX candidates had been exceptional to begin with—and she'd thought some of the Outcome agents had been bottom-of-the-pile—. It had been the conditioning, the training, so Landy could only wonder how a partial conversion would result. What happens when you take an already exceptional subject and enhance him? Would the results be matched or exceeded?

She opened the Outcome files one by one, carelessly shoving aside the files for the dead agents. Five. Pity. Outcome Two had recently been located so she was out too. That left three. And the LARX programming only allowed for the best. They'd bring in the three remainders anyway—why not try them all? If they died, they died.

Outcome Five was listed high priority. At this point they were all tired of the trouble he caused them, but even Landy had to admit that his qualities were what was needed.

"I thought the point was to shut the programs down, not to make more."

She closed the file, fixing Parsons with a cold stare. "We're making _progress_ with this. Do you expect us to drop years' worth of work and financial investment for a couple rogue agents? Maybe you should check to be sure you're in the right building. Yes, I know where you stand on this."

"You know it isn't right. You can't call it off, kill a handful of people and call it a closed situation."

"There isn't an easy solution. Only good and better ones."

"You killed five outcome agents." Parsons waved a hand at the files. "Five _people_"

Landy made a mental note to look at Parsons' file the first chance she had. At the least, she could…

"How can you think that's right?"

She folded her hands over the files, keeping her voice neutral. "Look at it from a company standpoint—we poured millions of dollars into these agents. Chems, routine exams, all the research that went into studying those results, their training, basic upkeep…" she watched Parsons' expression harden at 'upkeep' "when we don't get results, it's no different than breaking a rusted link off the chain. They stop being useful? We can replace them. We modified them, we control them. Some of them wouldn't be called human anymore."

"Take away their humanity and call them yours." She all but spat out the words.

"Remember whom you're working for—you walk out…" this time Landy made no effort to hide her distain for her coworker "…and I'll personally make sure you have nothing but minimum wage jobs for the rest of your life."

"In other words, I stay here and stand alongside you as we soak our hands in blood together."

"You'd stay in the end. All those precious morals of yours wouldn't stand up to a high-paying job."

Parsons leaned over the desk, staring Landy in the eyes. "You can't promise me more agents won't die."

"Of course I can't. Just as you can't tell me where to find Jason Bourne if you knew how." Landy sat back, allowing a smile to play on her face. "If you did, you'd be required to tell us. He's no more your ally than ours."

Parsons stared her down for another several seconds before pulling away. "You're right…I don't know where he is." Without another word, she continued to her office.

Thoughtfully, Landy watched after her for a brief moment. She made to call one of the assistants to retrieve Parsons file, but slowly laid the phone back down.

This was something better done by herself.

* * *

She'd never had to wonder about before; only the now mattered. The orders.

"Location?"

"New York"

She mentally calculated that it would be about seven hundred dollars and two hours to get there. "Is this another target?" she hadn't been given targets for a week—she'd thought they'd forgotten. Contacting them wasn't usually an option. It was for them to tell her.

"We're sending you a couple files. Read and memorize the details. Forward us your travel plans and time of arrival."

They hung up before her confirmation. They didn't need it; they never needed to hear her say she'd do it.

Every order given was meant to be followed. Immediately. No questions.

She went to her email and saw the files waiting for her.

_Cain_

_Outcome Five_

Both were labeled high priority. Agents designations. Her new targets were _other agents_. Lesser agents, she reminded herself. As she ran through the details, she couldn't explain why Five—Aaron Cross—sounded familiar, but she knew Bourne.

She was trained to take him down.


	8. Understanding Him

**Thanks to all who are following and who reviewed. It's great motivation to writing more.**

**Also, I realize I inadvertently mistook two of the characters- I've been using Pamela Landy when I meant to use Dita Mandy so I'll correct that from now on. **

**And I had way too much fun with writing flashbacks this time. **

* * *

_"I know my job! Which is science! I don't know what you do when you...when you leave the lab! None of us do!"_

_"For four years!"_

_-Marta and Aaron, Bourne Legacy_

Just look him in the eye and say it: I need you to survive. With you, what use can I be when we both know I slow you down.

Marta wanted to shake the doubts—if she was useless, wouldn't he have left her long ago instead of asking her?

So why haven't you?

It was one of those times where she couldn't remember what had led to this point—they were about five hours into the seventeen hour flight to Chicago and he'd fallen asleep with his head lolling against her shoulder; her arm had come to rest loosely around him while she rhythmically ran her fingers through his hair. Maybe it had been for the benefit of the other passengers who'd mistake them as a young couple. But she suspected it wasn't just about the cover for both of them. It was…

You've been alone too much of your life and now when you find someone you're too afraid of the price to keep me around. You understand me; you understand what I've been through. Maybe you're afraid to be alone again.

She stilled her hand briefly, eyes falling to the ring she wore. Then down to the gold band that he wore.

* * *

"Five minutes" Being in a foreign country was one thing, but being alone was more than she'd been willing to handle. Even if it had been five minutes of him being late to meet her. She'd been unable to rule out thoughts of another assassin having targeted him. Though she hadn't been willing to admit she'd been worrying either.

"No, I said ten." Aaron had taken her hand to drop something into her palm. "Between us, I'd like to stay closer this time. I don't think they'll be searching in Hong Kong and even if they were…"

"And this?" She'd looked on at him, amused, having examined the ring. It was no more than a souvenir, the type that would leave a greenish circle around her finger if she wore it for too long.

"What. I thought it was obvious." He took it to slip onto her. "You're the beautiful young assistant I fell in love with. We got away from everyone else to elope and I'm pretty sure you said yes."

Marta had smiled and even shivered just a little bit when he called her beautiful. "You're pretty sure?"

"Well, just about completely."

"_Assistant_?"

"Would partner sound better?" his voice held just a little question that was unusual for the agent.

"It might… so, where'd you find it?"

"What? Just over…wait. Where are you…? _Marta_."

She'd been unable to hold back a laugh of mischief, following the direction he'd pointed and coming to a small stall of jewelry—Marta had smiled at the old woman running it before searching among the items. Handmade necklaces and bracelets, simple but delicate earrings, and the rings.

"Oh you _aren't_"

"I thought it was obvious," she said teasingly when he'd come up beside her. "You want this cover to hold."

The woman said something in a language unknown to Marta and she looked to Aaron for translation. "You understand that?"

"Some" he was still holding that 'I can't believe you're doing this' expression when he turned to the woman and said a few words. And she could've sworn she saw him flush just a little at the response.

"What was that?"

"Wishing us a long life of enduring love and kids… the usual"

She laughed at the face he continued to make. "Didn't expect it to be so blunt? Maybe she can't help noticing. You were the one who started this, remember. Tell her I want you to try on that one." She'd pointed to a plain gold one.

"Seriously" he caught her look and had to laugh just a little himself. He relayed the request, gesturing to Marta.

The woman had picked up the ring and leaned over to hand it to Marta, who'd slipped it onto Aaron with a smile of satisfaction.

"How much?"

"More than you can afford."

"Seriously, Aaron?" She knew he was faking.

"Give her a twenty."

* * *

She knew he knew why she was still here. Protection. Companionship. After what happened, neither of them could've just left. Even from the beginning… Marta looked towards the window idly.

Thirteen exams. Thirteen times she'd seen him. Twelve times he'd remembered her name while she called him the generic 'you'. Thirteen times he'd tried to strike up a conversation—how'd her day been? One exam he'd told her about catching a ball in a Reno Aces game. A few times she'd walked in to see him on his iPod and learned that he listened to Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin. Another time he'd asked her when was her birthday and the next time she'd come to her office on March 7th she'd found a vase of carnations minus a note on her desk.

She'd never thought to ask his name and he'd never given it. A few times he'd dropped her last name just to call her Marta.

None of the other agents had ever said as much. For Aaron, it had seemed to more or less be a way to make the situation a little more endurable. He was the kind who liked to test the rules. Sometimes she gave him a brief answer; most of the time she'd ignore him or change the subject.

* * *

To her, he'd just been another agent to keep track of so when she'd been told that Five was back in for a routine exam, she'd collected his file and prepared herself for another unorthodox visit. She'd entered the exam room to find him humming along to "The Rover".

When he'd noticed her shut the door, he'd pulled out the earbuds. "Were you the one that called it in, doc?"

"You know they're routine _and_ mandatory." She'd skimmed over his file again, knowing he was watching her. Why couldn't he have been more unconcerned like the other agents? She'd pulled on gloves and turned back to him with a blood draw. "Arm please"

"Another one? I just pulled a sample for records two days ago." He was predominantly a lefty so he offered his right arm. "You know, I kind of like keeping it inside my body for more than three days at a time."

"I don't make policy." She'd inserted the needle in his arm and had watched the blood collect in the vial as she felt him continue to watch her.

"I don't see the point. Is it just another way to remind us who holds the leash?"

"You know I have to do a full paneling on you if you skip drops. It's…"

"I get it... _mandatory_." He let out a slow breath, taking on a more thoughtful tone. "So, even if you could change it, you wouldn't?"

"Why do you think I enjoy doing this?"

"You didn't answer the question. When I'm gone or whenever you get another blood drop, what exactly _do_ you do with those samples? Is this some worst case science fiction scenario where you're attuning a legacy virus to my chemistry?"

Marta withdrew the needle, setting aside the vial to quickly tape gauze to his arm. "We _aren't_ cooking up a death virus."

"So what _are_ you doing?"

She could ignore the questions like all the other times he'd been in, but no one else had been saying anything. It was as if they were in the middle of a conspiracy and were the last ones to know about it. Well, at least that's what he seemed to think. Marta had and would be content to do her job. The only times their lives interacted was in here—a less than ideal circumstance. So why should she be concerned about what happened outside the lab?

And she supposed later that she would've continued to believe it had she not seen the physical evidence. The dark aggressive bruises that ran up his left side. Two, three days old, she guessed. Some smaller ones had already begun to fade. "Does this hurt?" she probed the area, feeling for cracked ribs.

He focused on the ceiling. "It isn't that bad."

"It's the green chems. Pain suppression isn't always a good thing." Marta pushed his shirt higher, exposing more evidence of a fight. "How did this happen?"

She felt him shift beneath her to prop himself up on an elbow and regard her steadily. "What exactly do you think we do out there?"

"Well I wouldn't know what you do on your own time."

"My own time" he accompanied it with a wry laugh. "There's the thing: it isn't my own time. They think I haven't figured out how it works? All these enhancements just to set me loose and do all the things they're afraid to do themselves. And when I want to stop, when I really start to think about what it is they're having me do, all they give is a crap story about removing the moral factor from the equation."

She'd kept silent, trying not to think of the camera recording this as he went on.

"That's why they make us do it—so _they_ don't have it on their own consciences."

* * *

Four days later, Mandy had come into the lab to slap a consent sheet onto her desk. "Dr. Shearing, I want you to sign this."

It was rare to ever see the director's assistant down here and Marta couldn't fathom why… she examined the paper. Attached to it was the suspension note she'd written for Five. "What's this?"

"On his last visit, you cited Outcome Five with a suspension of service due to a few bruises. _Why_?"

"He had a number of defensive wounds. Last I knew you weren't a doctor here, Deputy Mandy. I chose what I judged to be the right course of action."

Mandy narrowed her eyes just a bit. "An Outcome agent could handle in," she said in a tone that implied she'd thought Marta had done it deliberately to call her out.

"What exactly does he do outside the lab?"

"Sign the form, Dr. Shearing."

"I want to know what happens. I refuse to sign until you tell me why."

"Over the course of his exams, Outcome Five has been behaving inappropriately towards you…"

"What… _information_?"

"Which he knows was out of line." She pushed the form closer. "We're sending him on a special training assignment, which policy says we can't do until we get your signature."

"Maybe he only wanted someone to talk to." Marta knew Mandy wouldn't leave until she signed and, at this point, there wasn't a valid reason to prolong the suspension. She'd been taking a liberty to begin one in the first place. "Where are you sending him?" She'd held the pen poised over the line.

"Alaska."

* * *

Thinking back to it, Marta knew it wasn't as though she hadn't any concern for the other agents, but he'd been the one to raise the questions in her. He'd made her realize that at some point, she had to ask _why_.

And be prepared to deal with the consequences.


	9. Testing Limits

_"If I even feel somebody behind me, there is no measure to how fast and how hard I will bring this fight to your doorstep. I'm on my own side now."_

_-Jason, Bourne Identity_

From his observation point, a number of personnel had left already; there couldn't be many left. They were practically giving him what he wanted. No wonder Outcome had engineered smarter agents—they had to compensate for their own stupidity. Shame for them.

Jason grinned.

He checked his watch again before sending the message.

* * *

You're pulling a risk here, Jason. If Byer had any idea what you were planning on doing… Parsons couldn't avoid admitting that of course Bourne knew. That's why he was doing it in the first place. It wasn't just for the information. It was to laugh in the director's face. And she would be the first to admit that Byer and the whole of Treadstone had to be put in their place, but was _this_ how to do it. Her phone buzzed. She picked it up only long enough to see the message, delete it, than set the phone down to go for the door.

"I hope you're right about this," she said, pulling her sleeve down over his fingers so she could yank the lever down.

* * *

Mandy went through the files once. Then twice before she found it. Some agent had filed it incorrectly before. She flipped it open at once to verify it was the full one. If Parsons had already pulled her own file…Byer was almost an idiot for keeping her on staff. An idiot obsessed over a fight he couldn't win.

A shrill blaring exploded through the halls.

Many jerked her focus up and slammed the door behind herself, yelling orders to the agents scurrying around. "Fire? What fire? No, don't leave until I find out what's going…" she went to the staircase. Up instead of down. If there was a fire, why couldn't she smell smoke?

* * *

Jason keyed the back door and pulled it open, wincing at the shrill of the alarm. Checked his watch again.

Five minutes.

Move.

* * *

She got out with the wave of agents. But she kept expecting to get a glimpse of Jason. Byer had left his office awhile ago but she only then noticed that Deputy Mandy wasn't around.

* * *

He's planned the route out, couldn't afford mistakes. At Byer's desk, he rummaged through the mess. Most of it was about him—useless—a file or two on Treadstone in general…he searched again. This couldn't be right. Parsons had relayed intel about Outcome and LARX. Where were those files? Disgusted, Jason shoved the paperwork off to flutter to the floor. Now what?

He took a few slow breaths, trying to think. Byer was the one calling the shots; had he taken the files with him or locked them away? Or…

Jason went through the papers again. There, an early proposal for Outcome was filed under Treadstone. Agent statistics, names…for lack of anything else, Jason grabbed it. He'd wanted more intel. This wouldn't be enough to call them off.

LARX was his target.

"Outcome was created to take you out, Jason." Parsons had said it a few times, warning him if he'd ever come into contact with the agents. "You're good, but some of them could be better, They were genetically altered to be smarter, faster so they could take you down."

"And LARX?" he'd pressed.

"LARX is like the antibody. They don't distinguish between good or bad. They'll take down whomever they're told to, whomever doesn't fit into the system. Imagine an agent with no emotions—complete consistency, pain sensors dulled to an incredible amount. Essentially a super solider. The kind you could never become. They were the result of a drawing board development. Now they takeout the other agents. The ones Treadstone deems useless. There's only a few of them left."

"And the LARX agents?"

"I don't know. It would be in the file."

But where's the file? What he had now wasn't enough. Where the hell had Byer left it?

* * *

She might've guessed it to be a false alarm; nothing she saw would've warranted an evac. It might've been someone leaving against the fire alarm or pulling it for a prank…right now she didn't really care. She was nearly to her office when she heard a commotion from Byer's. And standing there, papers in hand… "Sonofabitch…Bourne!" she spat out the name, cursing herself for not having a gun on hand. "How the hell did you…? You know what, I don't want to know."

"We'll skip the explanations so you can hand over those files on the programs." He tucked a sheet into his pocket and pulled back his jacket to expose the butt of a gun. "Don't make me, Mandy. Seriously. _Don't_."

She gave a harsh laugh. "And you think I'm just going to hand you files and let you walk out. I thought you were one of the _better _ones."

"You know which ones I want. Outcome. LARX. All those dirty little projects you've been soaking your hands in since I turned my back on this hellhole." He edged forwards, eyes hard.

"You're a defect, Bourne. You're off the list."

"I was never on it. At least not in the way that you wanted… those files. I need all of them. Maybe you'll give them without too much trouble and I can put in a few good words for you at the council proceedings."

She took a step back. Then another. The closer she got to the door, the wider she smiled. "You want to know about LARX, Jason? How about you face them yourself."

"You don't want to do this. How can…how can you even _think_ that what you're doing is right?"

"Look at it from our perspective—an agent gone rogue who threatens our entire organization, all the people working…"

Bourne scoffed. "All the people _that you put in harm's way in the first place. _Did Treadstone cut out your conscience when they cut out my memories?" He drew out the gun, finger resting lightly on the trigger although Mandy knew he wouldn't fire. "You aren't going to finish this project."

She stared him down before moving to let him pass. "There's no point keeping you here. Try to hide, try to get the upper hand. LARX will find you. And when it comes down to a fight, you'll wish you gave up now. We _engineered_ those agents to take you down, Bourne." She smiled again. "You don't stand a chance."

He lowered the gun. "I don't surrender to your people. Ever."

"We're onto Nicky, Bourne" she called after him when he headed for the stairwell. "I know you're involved with her somehow and I'll have constant radar on her from now on. The second she's caught, I'm dealing with her myself."

* * *

"It's all I could find. You said Byer would've had the LARX files but they weren't there." He handed her the papers he'd taken on Outcome but Nicky didn't take them.

"The files exist, Jason. He's _supposed_ to have them."

"Is there anyone else who would?"

"I don't know…Mandy? She's got a lot to gain from the project when she more or less took it over from Byer. He's more concerned with bringing you down before the LARX plans can go beta." She caught Jason's grim determination and she snatched the papers. "No, you can't do it again. You risked enough as it is by forcing their hand they'll tighten security and you might not get another chance at it."

"We need those files. We can't convict let alone start an investigation until we have evidence. _That evidence_."

"And it's no good if you're too dead to do the investigating!"

"So you think you can? Nicky… you've got more to lose than I do."

"I'm the one who has access. We'll go slower this time. Slow enough that Mandy will be pulling her hair out waiting for us to make our next move."

If they had another option, she knew he'd tell her no again, but he didn't. She knew this decision to pull the rug out from Treadstone was going to take dedication… _but are you willing to pay that much?_ was the question written all over Jason's face.


	10. Fears

_"…you better ask yourself this; could you ever say it loud enough or fast enough, that they be too afraid to finish what they started?" –Aaron, Bourne Legacy_

"Aw, hell, I hate international flights," said Aaron while prodding the soggy pancakes with a fork. "Never know what they put in this. Haven't you ever seen any of those horror stories about them chopping passengers into little bits to stick in the meals?"

"Shut up" Marta suppressed a laugh, nudging his side. "It's just frozen from a box. They don't stick people in them. C'mon, you're worse than a kid."

"This isn't me difficult."

"No, I think it is."

Resignedly, he took the mouthful—the combination of grease and syrup made it less of an effort to chew than it should've. What I'd give for a few bags of peanuts right now.

Foods like those reminded him of past missions, back in Outcome, back when he'd willingly do almost anything…

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Thinking about before" he admitted, suffering through another bite. "I'm trying not to. After everything…well" now wasn't the time to say anything. "They can still hunt us, pull me back in."

"No" she said, resting his hand on hers. "They couldn't. You're better."

"Sometimes."

* * *

Fear had been the driving factor. How much had Marta understood before—that he'd gotten too fond of the chems, when it had allowed him a chance. He hadn't hand many prospects before Outcome. He'd barely passed highschool—the only option he'd really had was getting into the army, letting them lie on his IQ.

And then. Seeing the cognitive degrade process firsthand…it'd left him swearing to do whatever it took to stay enhanced.

_Subject will first lose focus in short increments. These periods will become greater as the time since the last chem progresses. Entire episodes of memory could be replaced by black spots. Depending on the original state of the subject, their degrade may not only revert them to but lessen their original intelligence._

The further the subject has to fall.

Wes Hanaway had been the first one. One day he'd just gotten down to his last blue and they hadn't given him anymore. If anyone shared with him, they'd be suspended too. First it was a few hours, then a night, then…

Aaron had come into the room to see his fellow trainee—once rowdy, always reeking of trouble—sitting on his bunk, staring at the wall. His face was blank. He'd looked over too and saw a picture of Wes' girlfriend hanging there. "Hey"

Wes turned towards him, but it took several seconds before his expression morphed into a faint grin. "Hey" It was the emptiness in his eyes that had scared Aaron the most. Alive, but nothing behind the face. Empty shell, just a mask…

Aaron had forced a grin in response, but he couldn't stop thinking it would be him next. When you go through the degrade, you won't be as lucky. The trainer had rubbed it in, more than once. Practically shoved his past record under his nose when he got out of line the first few times. We keep you smart so you work for us. When you walk away, you're back to what you used to be. No more chems, no more intelligence, _just you_.

* * *

If we can upgrade you, we can degrade you. Don't ever think you're a step ahead of us—you never are. We let you think that just to laugh at your presumptions. Deep down you'll always be the same. It's just the front of intelligence. It's not the real you…

Aaron tensed up, trying to stave off the jeering echoes of his trainer. Was cognitive degrade from the viralling off even possible. Marta said the changes were permanent but what if only the physical ones were. No… no, he wasn't turning back. Wasn't.

He stood up in the aisle, popping up the cargo hold to drag down the backpack and sling it over his shoulder while the other passengers retrieved their belongings.

_Welcome to Chicago. It's currently a breezy 60 degrees. Thank you for flying United Airlines. We enjoyed having you along._

Marta slipped her purse over his shoulder and took his hand when he offered it to her.

We'll need transport and a chance to charge the computer and someplace to stay. We could to an all-nighter to New York. Or stay here a few nights. The sooner we get to where the action is the better. Treadstone knows. They can't _not_ know.

They waded through the stream of passengers out to the terminal. Aaron snagged a counter space outside the waiting area to plug in and power up his computer. All the passing strangers made him just a little unnerved. They'd been out of contact a week so there was no telling what rumors Outcome was leaking about him to the public.

Serial killer. Ex-convict. Psycho.

"Be right back," said Marta, heading for the restrooms.

He nodded, watching her leave—marking the location in case things were to get dicey—while waiting for the computer to power up. He'd have to grab a couple newspapers before they left too. Just in case. It couldn't hurt to see what they'd been missing. He connected to the wifi and opened a tab to type in the address he'd used so many times—primary contact while he was in Outcome. It'd had been the easiest way for them to track their agents' locations besides the homing device. Aaron made a face at that; they'd used that device that had saved him in the past in order to mark his location to kill him. How sick was that. They'd see his location now from the wifi…the IP wasn't a problem, but he'd never seriously considered whether they tracked his laptop. If they saw him, they'd know he was still alive. That element of surprise was long gone by this point. Maybe he couldn't assume anything was safe anymore.

It's been nearly a week since his last check-in. Back in…well, before Alaska and that stupid training mission he'd wheedled himself into. Yeah, my fault cos I got too nosy. So what. Someone has to ask the questions. Besides, if I'd been hanging around like the other agents had, I'd be gone now. He had to admit it—being in Alaska had probably saved his life. As unpleasant as it had been.

If he was lucky, they might not monitor the site. So what if they do? They know we're still alive once they do recover work on that assassin.

An assassin.

When had he earned _that_ level of respect? Depending whom the assassin had been and where he'd come from. There were still a couple safehouses in the city, a few too in New York but Aaron wondered just how safe those really were since the program had been shut down. Sold? Monitored?

He counted his assets—could access his own files and limited Outcome database, there were a few files on Treadstone for reference… he scrolled through info for past contacts warily. Don't assume you can trust anyone but yourself at this point. But then, it couldn't hurt to play with them just a little. He checked in. _Returned state-side after mysterious series of assassin attempts. Identity on request. Awaiting further orders._

That should make Byer's day. He considered putting in a note about Marta being gone, but if he said he'd left her or she'd died, they probably wouldn't buy it. And at this point, he was sick of the lies he'd been told over and over. He didn't want to make anymore. Unless he had to.

We don't have the advantage of them thinking we're dead anymore—they know we're out there and coming back for them. Is going so near them really the best thing? Time to plan first—to find Bourne…

Aaron searched "Jason Bourne location" but all he got were sightings.

"Jason Bourne recent sightings"

Same thing. Nothing useful. Byer was probably keeping the intel from the press. But from Treadstone? How am I supposed to get in there without walking in the damn building? They'd be all over me if I got in. If I survived their attempts so far, I'm not walking in unprepared to _let_ them take me.

Aaron stopped the searches that weren't bringing up a damn useful thing to scrub a hand across his face. C'mon, Bourne, how the hell am I supposed to find you? You couldn't drop a few clues or something…we're on the same side. I don't care what they might've told you; I'm not your enemy.

His phone vibrated and he drew it out to see he'd been occupied with this far longer than he should've been.

_Parking garage, lot D silver Hyundai _


	11. Rising

**Short character-development chapter. Working on more. **

_"There are no rules. Okay? You belong here." –Aaron, Bourne Legacy_

Marta had ducked out of the restroom and snagged _The Chicago Tribune_ from the kiosk before heading down to the exit terminal. It couldn't hurt… he'd probably be recognized but she might not…

She stopped outside, taking a moment to compose herself before she pulled open the door to the rental agencies. She wanted him to see her useful. He'd taught her and now she could use that.

* * *

"You're a warrior"

No, I'm not, she'd thought at the time. You're all that's been keeping me alive. Maybe I'm the one with the intellectual degree but you're the one with the degree in survival. You were right—you were my only break to staying alive and I'm not turning my back on that. Swallow it down and pretend it isn't all about the selfish motives; he needs me just as I need him, it isn't just about the connections anymore or what we can do for each other—it's about who we are to each other, isn't it? You see more than I see in myself if it was there to begin with. "Aaron," she almost laughed aloud, "I'm just a doctor, I'm not…I used you as freaking _lab rat_…I'm not like you."

He met her eyes seriously—solemnity clouding his face. What color were those eyes…she tried to think back to his medical file. It was never the color. When Aaron looked at her, she couldn't stop at the physical particulars. His eyes drew her in, saw into her. "You're a warrior, you can make it. You're a survivor." She felt his fever burning through her blouse when she drew him closer, his breathing ragged against her shoulder, sweat clinging to his hair.

"You aren't going to die. You're going to be fine." She kissed his brow before helping him to lay back. "Just sleep, Aaron." His fever-glazed eyes locked on hers as she moistened his face with a cloth in some measure of comfort for him. "You're going to be fine." Maybe she shouldn't have done this…it hurt to see him suffering after she'd been the one to inject him with the virus.

_When was this? You mean the mystery flu. When I almost died, that was you?_

Oh Aaron, I'm so sorry.

He said nothing, only plaintively reached up to take her hand and hold it. "You should leave."

She couldn't leave him in this state, if he almost died last time. She rested her free hand against the side of his face. "How about you count backwards from a hundred."

He made a weak attempt at a smile before he laid back and rasped out the words as she continued to sit at his side.

* * *

"I'd like to rent something small. I didn't have a chance to call ahead…" she took out her wallet and tapped the plastic card on the counter idly. Did that sound convincing enough? No, I'm not in the records, moron. She tried not to look overly concerned as he looked her over then typed up something in the computer.

"License?"

She handed it over, resisting the urge to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. It'll work, it'll work.

He typed up some more than looked up at her. "And how long?"

She forced a smile. "Two weeks, should do it." Was it her imagination or was he looking a little suspicious now? No…there's nothing suspicious about it. People rent cars all the time. Criminals…fugitives…assassin-targets… Well that was scary. To think that the assassin after her and Aaron could've just walked into here and gotten service like anyone else. They don't rent to murderers…I killed him, I killed that assassin, does that make me a murderer?

"Ma'am?"

She looked up quickly, handing him the credit card and wondering, not for the first time, where exactly the credit line where that card dipped into came from. Right out of Outcome probably. Damn. They'd pull the receipts and find out they'd been here…they didn't know already by the plane tickets? Marta drew a few slow breaths. No, don't think about that. They know we aren't dead. If we spend some money here, it won't matter if we're just going to leave anyway.

He handed her card and license back along with a set of keys. "Second level, 2009 Hyundai silver. Have a pleasant stay."

"Thank you." She replaced the cards in her purse and pushed through the glass doors out to the parking garage. I did it. I actually did it.

It was a shame really that Aaron couldn't have been right there to see her do it. Oh, he's going to be so miffed…she held back a smirk as she pulled out her phone to jot him a text. Still back in the terminal waiting for me to join him again? Don't blame me. You're the one who said I was a warrior.


	12. Fashioning the Noose

**Fashioning the Noose**

_"Now Jason, this only goes two ways. Either you come in and let us make this right, or we're going to have to keep going until we're satisfied."_

_~ Alexander Conklin, Bourne Identity_

* * *

"And you're sure he's in New York?" she listened to the reply, brows furrowing when the response was difficult to hear over the rush of the aerotrain. She moved further to the exit. "Where should I arrange a meeting?"

He doesn't know you exist. Far as we know, Bourne knows precious little about LARX. The longer we keep him in the dark, the more time you have to move. Where are you?

"Arrived at _JFK _and awaiting further orders. The flight was delayed due to maintenance."

"He's getting dangerous. We don't know how long you have to act."

"How do I find him?" Her mind reviewed the details she'd absorbed about her target. He knew how to be hidden—not only that, but how to stay below the radar even after he had practically infiltrated headquarters. He might not be LARX but he was hell of a close second. Wouldn't surprise her if they decided to convert him to the program; aside from the resentment, memories, training problems, they might still take the risk. He was that kind of agent apparently.

"Find him…or let him find you. Approach him with the information he wants. Lure him in."

"You want him alive." It wasn't a question. She couldn't resist just a bit of disappointment. Killing him, or trying to, might actually be fun. What kind of resistance would he try to pull against her? Now that was a laugh.

"Do what you need to bring him in, but we need him alive. As much as Bourne was the black sheep, he's still an important piece to perfecting the program."

A child was crying, a cellphone ringing, the jostle of another person into her—she only distantly noticed these things while making her way to the garage and considering a plan of her own while she listened to headquarters starting on protocol. "The file said there was a woman."

"She died—he blames Treadstone…he wouldn't buy it."

This wasn't about Bourne not buying the façade. They thought she couldn't pull it off. They'd made her into an agent who didn't need emotions, who didn't need anyone else to be strong, but she could still remember. All those feelings she'd had on first joining the program—those _infatuations_—she saw those now as childish. Love was for weaker agents, but it could still be a crutch for some of them. "I could persuade him."

She heard the rustling on their end, those hushed voices—_could it be done? Would Bourne buy it? But we engineered LARX so there wouldn't be any emotion? Is she defaulting from the programming?_

She still understood pleasure and pain—all the evals said as much. It was the way she'd learned to block those emotions that made her immune to them. "I only need to get close enough to him."

More uneasy murmuring. Had they even _heard_ her? She could do this. She'd done it before.

"Do whatever it takes to bring him down," says the deputy director at last.

* * *

Mandy replaced the phone in the receiver, wondering whether LARX 2 was really that advanced or whether Bourne was going to be that stupid to believe this ruse.

"How the hell did Bourne just walk in here like he owned the place?! Why did no one notice this—we've got our best agent out there screwing with us and you're busy worrying whether the upgrading will ever happen!" Byer was furious and then some as Mandy had predicted but it was more from his oversight than the organization. Something the bastard just couldn't figure out.

"LARX 2 is on standby now. She's going to bring Bourne in." She resisted the impulse to say something along the lines of his being obsessed with a worthless cause. It makes her not want to tell him, but he's her superior and he needs to know—"She's going to lure him by playing Marie"—and she doesn't have to see the astonishment she knows is on his face.

"LARX doesn't have emotion."

"I know."

"We programmed that out."

"_I know_."

"So how does she get these impulses now?" he glares at his deputy like it's _her_ fault this operative might be defective.

The program was _your_ idea, Byer. I just picked it up when you turned to more irrational pursuits.

"And why would she think Bourne would fall for it?"

"He's a _man_, Byer."

His eyes narrow. "I'm not sure I follow, deputy."

"He lost her; he's still in mourning, still blames us and LARX 2 thinks she can exploit that."

"And you think that's a good idea."

Have you come up with a better idea? I'm the one running this organization alone; I get to make the judgment calls. To think that you could back off and then think you have the authority to question _my_ decisions…

But of course she couldn't say anything about this while he was still the director. "I think it's better than anything else we have at this point" she said, with a swift glance at him "unless you have a better idea."

He doesn't congratulate her or say it's a bad decision. He doesn't say _anything_. Just gives a nod and walks away.

It might be the first time that he actually let her make the call.

* * *

Once she arrives at the safe house in Chelsea she spends the afternoon and most of the evening obsessing over the details Treadstone forwarded her on Marie Kreutz and then reviewing Bourne. She has to know him to make sure this works…to pull this off, get close to him…

Back when she was in the program, she remembered escaping the training sessions…with someone else? Murky memories of being on missions with an occasional partner—the same partner? Try as she did to remember, there was never a face to that other agent. All she knew was that she hadn't been alone once. There'd been someone else who cared back when she knew how to care, when she wanted to, until she'd turned away or allowed herself to be turned….

She dropped the file, papers spilled as a rare moment of …fear? gripped her. No. She could be afraid. The programming didn't allow for fear.

"I'm Marie Kreutz. It was a conspiracy Treadstone made to keep you from knowing the truth—they were using me." She paused, judging her next words and how to inject feeling within them, "Jason, I'm sorry." She pulled her face in what she hoped was apology. "Jason… you don't think I tried to say no?"

You didn't fight them. You _wanted_ this. Is Treadstone right to worry? Programming can't come undone…there isn't a failure…there couldn't be…

She takes a breath and like that the worries are gone. She sees the mission again.

I am Marie Kreutz. I _am_ Marie.


	13. Back in the Swing

Trying my hand at a fighting scene. Hopes this works.

* * *

**BACK IN THE SWING**

_"Well, so far, you've given me nothing but a trail of collateral damage from Zurich to Paris. I don't think I could do much worse."_

_-Ward Abbott, Bourne Identity_

They were halfway through Ohio, having just come out of Elyria when Aaron finally quit being stubborn and pulled off an exit for a gas station.

"Waiting till we're on fumes?" Marta wasn't impressed but he just snorted and hopped out to fill it up. He pulled out his wallet, swiped the card but an error message came up. Frowning, he tried again. Then tried his back-up card. Accepted. Aaron released a sigh and handed the working card to Marta. "We're not going to have this much longer. Get some food from the station, okay. And…"

"A newspaper," she finished, taking it. "I know how it works.

Treadstone was already starting to freeze his assets, but at least they'd have longer with Marta's cards and there was always the back-up cash. As he waited for the tank to fill, he cast a covert glance around the other customers before taking a squeegee to clean the windshield.

* * *

He lowered the road map he'd been pretending to study in order to focus on the man filling up the Hyundai suspiciously—studying the stranger before putting two and two together and reaching for the Outcome file.

"LARX 1 checking in. I've picked up the target. Cross, I've got Cross." He took the orders—engage but take alive—drawing the gun from the seat beside him before exiting his car. Cross didn't notice him at first. He came up to the agent and whether by his composure or that "agent sense", he caught the sight furrow of his target's brows, a swift glance to the car but he neither made a reach for a gun nor indicated in any other way that he knew who had approached him and now gripped him arm with a gun held low." You're coming in, Cross."

Cross' eyes locked on his, sparked with defiance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"There are civilians around here. Wouldn't want to risk any stray shots accidently hitting a bystander." He pulled the agent a step towards his car. "Outcome has some reckoning for you to do after you murdered that agent back in Manila."

"He was coming after me with a gun." Cross resisted, pulling to remain where he was. "Your own fault if you end the same way."

He forced the agent forward, jamming the gun more forcefully into his side. "You're over, Cross. You had your run and now you're getting called in."

* * *

Aaron had no doubt this agent—if he could be called that—was the same scum that he'd come across before. It wasn't any that he'd recalled from training way back so this had to be something new. The real question is how long can I keep him down? The other one wouldn't stop, just kept coming like some kind of…automaton. He didn't downgrade his own abilities but even _he_ couldn't have kept coming if he'd been as bullet-riddled as the assassin had been. To hell with my reckoning, _Outcome's_ got the reckoning to be done. He kept the bystanders at the back of his mind and Marta…thank heavens she wasn't out here too.

"How about you run tail between your legs back home to those bastards and tell them you couldn't take me down."

It wasn't quite a laugh, more like a scoff and a snort attempting to pass as a laugh as though the motion had been forgotten. The gun shifted a bit where the other agent could conceal it more between their bodies. "Or you could give up this last-man-standing fight."

"On whose authority?" Maybe this was the time for questions to be answered.

"Policy. They shut down your division. You're just the wild card who keeps evading their traps."

"So the drone plane in Alaska, the assassin in Manila…that was the administration."

"You can't talk your way out of this."

The pump clicked, indicating full. Aaron half-turned towards it. "You want this to look more suspicious than it already is?" The gun left his side and he moved to take out the pump and screw the gas cap back on. "If you take me in, what do you expect me to do with my car anyway? They'll check plates and find out it's a rental and they're going to ask questions and then these bystanders are going to remember faces and maybe some of them might link you to a government organization when they see the bullet casings lying around from that gun. I'm not an idiot, I know they don't hand us standard-issued guns. They want us to be invisible, but eventually someone's going to get smart and do some digging."

"It only leads to trouble…like you found out."

Oh, I wouldn't say _that_… Aaron had to try, had to take this chance. "All cos of Bourne, wasn't it? They have one agent screw up and make them look in the mirror and then they're scrambling all over themselves to clear it up. Take out the cause then take out the agents they made to take him out. So, from one agent to another…" he stared the assassin straight on "what do _you_ know about Jason Bourne?"

And then Cross made his move, ramming his elbow into the assassin's side and yanking his arm up so the shot went wide into the canopy. Shrieks came from the nearby customers as they scattered. The assassin grabbed at Cross with his free hand, struggling to seize control of the gun. Aaron thrust him back into the pavement, trying to wrench the gun clutched in the white-knuckled grip, as though it was an extension of the assassin. Who would consent to this degree of training? The assassin lashed back against him ramming a foot into his stomach which sent him to sprawl backwards into the fender, cracking his head against the metal. Aaron fought against the haze, hammering to the ground just before the gun went off—bullet cracking through the windshield. He sprang to grab the assassin by the knees dragging him down, ducking another bullet and made another grab for the gun. Seizing his opponent's wrist, Aaron redirected the next shot to the pavement then caught it up the wrist in a sharp twist, ignoring the crack and disjointment of bones beneath his hand to render it useless.

The assassin growled under his breath, ignoring the pain he _had_ to be feeling to shove Aaron backwards, diving for the gun he'd dropped. Just as he was on it, Aaron yanked open the door in his face and snatched up the gun and held it on his opponent.

"_Who are you_?"

Rage boiled in his opponent's eyes. "You can't stop us, Cross. You're one against an entire organization that's bent on seeing you taken out."

"I got that part and why. If they're taking out agents then why weren't you on the hit list? What, you take me in and then let then deprogram you too?"

"I'm not the agent. I'm the _upgrade_." And then he shot forwards in a hell-bent fury, pinning Aaron against the hood only minimally flinching at the shots embedded in his shoulder joint, his chest. He ignored the gun this time, digging his fingers into Aaron's neck. The gun clicked empty. Aaron thrust the weapon up to crack against the assassin's jaw but he didn't fall back, didn't acknowledge the strike.

This wasn't just an assassin. This wasn't even the best training Outcome could offer.

This was _programming_.

He kicked every part he could reach as the fingers dug in further.

Advanced stage of Outcome agent. Pain decreased to almost nothing. Conditioned to be unstoppable. Human empathy gone.

Fight this, Cross. Fight it.

A blur of motion came from behind the assassin and he crumpled forward senselessly. Aaron pushed him off in contempt, watching his opponent bleeding out, _still alive_ then he looked up at Marta who'd he just noticed had taken his gun.

She pulled it on the unconscious figure again, regarded him and then lowered the gun. "This is the second assassin I saved you from. Why did I ever think you didn't need me around?"

"I _told _you you were a survivor." Aaron eased off the hood, assessing his injuries which didn't seem to be anything immediate although his head had begun to ache. "We need to get out of here. They'll be expecting an update and then they'll be out in force."

"And that one?" she looked to the assassin.

"Leave him. Let Outcome know that the super-assassin bastards they sent can't stop us."


	14. Cross the Rules

**Sorry about late in posting. Only a month left until graduation. And things ****_do_**** pile up at the end... :/ **

* * *

_"You got a plan, right? Yeah, of course you do. You're a doctor, you've got this all worked out, don't you?"_

_~Aaron, Bourne Legacy_

Marta made him take shotgun, occasionally glancing over to watch him reading the newspapers they'd procured for any clue how to find Bourne or the state of Treadstone. She'd been thinking about it—just walking back into Treadstone like nothing had happened. Lie when she'd tell them she was happy to be back, how she'd been kidnapped and blackmailed by the rogue agent, She'd say she didn't know where he'd gone, that after Manila he'd just run off and left her with enough cash to get back stateside like he'd had something to hide. All along, he'd acted like she was a liability, that she was useless to him once he got viralled off. Yes, she performed the procedure and it worked perfectly. And did she _like_ him? What kind of question was that. She'd wanted to get away, but he'd dragged her into this. It wasn't fair…all she'd wanted was to get back. Back safe at her job. He never looked out for me. He'd been too driven about the drugs to care about _anyone_.

Even though she knew it couldn't be further from the truth. Suppose they looked back at audio records of the exams and watched him trying to converse with her—couldn't they point that back towards him liking her and then think it was all too likely that she was bluffing on other parts of her account. He cared; she knew he cared. How many risks had he taken so far for her after all. He'd could've run.

If they mentioned Peter, she'd pull a sad look and say it had been a shame, how she hadn't the slightest idea how that could've happened.

And meanwhile, she could get the intel for Aaron. She'd clean out the medical files and find the one with Bourne's name on it. Somehow she'd find a way to ask about him—I'm just reevaluating these files…what ever became of this agent? She could go to the director maybe. He'd want her whole account of events.

Aaron shifted restlessly beside her, trying to stretch out his legs in the cramped space. Marta had been driving for a couple hours and she was going sore, hoping they'd reach their destination soon. He looked out the window, watching the mile markers tick past, then to a map and then back out the window.

"Did you know either of them?" she voiced the question she'd been wondering awhile. "Were either of those assassins part of the program?"

"You saw more of the participants than I did."

"But you trained together, didn't you?"

"That wasn't Outcome training. Outcome made agents, not assassins." There's a bit of a question when he says _assassins_, like he's trying to deny his own involvement. She's never asked him about what they made him do and she supposes it really isn't her place to reopen those old wounds of his. From what she's seen, he isn't a bad person. He was just caught up in an organization who kept him on a tight leash and made him do bad things.

"I never saw them either and I did see most of the participants…I think they were keeping this batch separate. Maybe just the higher-up agents knew about them."

And she's curious how he intends to play this. He can only get so close to headquarters. "After we get to New York, then what? How exactly do you plan to do this. Right now, you're just running in without a plan and Treadstone they _have_ a plan if you come back, Aaron. Maybe you haven't thought about that angle enough. They're going to catch you and deprogram you, if not kill you so we can't just go in without a plan. And maybe you won't like I plan I have, but I'm sure it's a heck of a lot better than the one you've got."

She feels him watching her but she doesn't look back at him. If this is what it takes, then it's what it takes.

"You can argue all you like but I need to go in there if we really want to know what's going on. There's no other way."

* * *

He knew she was right. He'd get shot on sight if he came within ten yards of headquarters while they'd be too busy determining Marta's motivations for being there then to worry about convicting her. "You know it's going to be dangerous."

Suave, Aaron, suave.

As he'd hoped, the safehouse at 31 St. James Avenue hasn't been touched for weeks. Treadstone has a couple other high-end ones scattered through the city so he hopes they'll overlooked this one for a while. It's in enough of an urban setting that he shouldn't have too much trouble leaving for various things and roaming around freely. If Marta thinks he'll stay here holed up, she doesn't know him well enough yet.

There aren't any answers here.

Marta doesn't say much when he shows her around it and he supposes she's still set on going into headquarters, which he knows there's no use disregarding now. He's tried to show her it's too dangerous but some part of her isn't that same woman he comforted a few days ago—is she trying to be more like him? Marta, you don't have to play strong to impress. He doesn't say it aloud; doesn't matter, she wouldn't listen to it anyway.

He took her face in her hands, gazing hard into her eyes to read the truth hidden there. She knew. She wanted to take the risk. For…Aaron felt his emotions pick up as his gaze lowered minimally and he thought this might be the right time. He'd honestly thought about kissing her before but it had never felt…well, they'd just met two weeks ago. Nevermind we met closer to three years ago. When it looks that way, then it isn't so…do you want me to do it?

What do you really want, Marta? What if she isn't that type—he'd never known about her before Outcome. At least, she'd never wanted to speak about whether she was or had been in a relationship. Then again it wasn't exactly that type of question one normally came into a routine exam with and— intentionally or not— motivating him to go to those exams. Just that chance to see her, to try to forget about the cameras and act like the normal he couldn't be.

Maybe she'd be offended and think he was taking advantage of her_? You save my life just to take me as yours? _Or regret if it reminded her of past relationships he didn't know about. Or maybe he'd take the initiative and she'd be the one to say it should go further. Or maybe, just maybe she felt the same way. He looked into her eyes once more before letting his hands drop. How can I make you understand? How can I say I've loved you for years? How can I say that you're the only one?

"Be careful."

"Funny. I learned from the best and being careful was the thing he was worst at." She laughs a little but he doesn't get beyond a forced grin. It isn't settling to hear her going into it so lightheartedly. She might underestimate the situation and make a mistake and he won't be there to help her out of it. Her voice gets serious, "I'll be careful."

And Aaron couldn't help wondering, as she smiled faintly and walked away, whether he'd lost another chance to tell her the truth.

It's only when she's gone that he's forced to confront the reality or the fear of the lack of. She's the only one who kept him human although she never realized it. All those times he'd seen her…

Aaron paced restlessly from one end of the room to the other, the same questions burning in his mind—do I tell her, _how_ do I tell her? Far as he could see, drawing her in closer could only be more dangerous. Could she continue to deny her involvement with him? Could he keep her safe? Would she even want us to be together? And how many rules would it break?

Aaron's steps halted, he ran a hand through his hair. Rules, why am I worrying about those? If we both wanted this, Treadstone can't stop us. So what if I'm a governmental lab rat and she's a doctor who helped re-engineer me, there can't be that much distance. And as much as he would rattle around the question, he couldn't even think of his answer. She might never know.

He thinks of kissing her again when she comes back—does he need an excuse for that? Glad she's okay? So, he's just admitting then how he cares? A belated extra thanks for the viralling off? But none of those seem good enough. Aaron runs his enhanced brain in circles to find the _how_ until he settles down enough to locate some paper where he pours out his hear t to her. He goes back three years and recounts all those feelings—seeing her, what Outcome made him do, that dependency and how _she_ was the one who reminded him he was human. He wrote until he used up a pen and found another to keep on writing. It was fifteen pages. He folded it in a manila envelope and hid it in a security cache Marta would never find.

It was the first step.

* * *

She was cleared on the first key swipe—incredulously they hadn't thought she'd come back after…Marta recalled that attempted murder, swallowing against a lump of fear. They'd tried to kill her in her own home and they thought she'd just run and hide for the rest of her life? Mandy owed her a few, if nothing else. She pulled on her lab coat and tied her hair back like she'd done a hundred past mornings only this time there'd be no exams, none of her usual coworkers.

"Well Doctor Shearing, I see you survived your kidnapping and exploits in the Philippines." Mandy might as well have told Marta to slit her wrists with all the welcome that was in her voice.

Oh you already tried that one. She remembered the gun—in her own hand—dragged down to her head just before Aaron cut in saving her life. "Deputy" she acknowledged her superior with no less cheer. "I was blackmailed and held captive so one of _your_ agents could get high for longer than I'd care to admit so I'm really not in the mood."

Mandy surveyed her knowingly. "If he held you against your will then you shouldn't have any reserves about helping us track him down."

She'd expected that tactic thrown at her—the deputy was probably thinking back to who-knows-how-many exam conversations where Aaron _had_ to talk himself into reprimand and consequences.

"Is that why you make such an attractive appearance?" she recalled those words as clearly as though he'd spoken them again. You really did screw it up for yourself, Aaron. I wouldn't be surprise if that charming inquisitive manner of yours hadn't pulled the firing pin on its own. She'd been too professional back then to care that he did have a unique handsomeness about him. And it was probably her lack of involvement that had kept her alive as long as she'd been.

"I would if I knew where he was" and she eyes Mandy just daring for the bitch to come out and say all the nasty things she knows that the deputy is probably thinking. Instead of letting it go on or ushering Marta off to her job, Mandy orders her to her old office and tells her to wait there. She looks angry.

When she leaves Marta alone, the scientist has half a mind to walk out then, Instead she directs her attention to the files lining the shelves and searches for one on Bourne. It isn't a name she recalls from her exams. Maybe he wasn't one of her patients. Maybe life these new agents, Outcome kept them hidden from her.

Mandy comes back with a cruel smile and with Byer close behind. This time Marta does feel her heart thud just a bit. Byer has it in for Aaron—that much she knows.


	15. (Author Note)

Due to the semester finishing and graduation in less than two weeks, the story is on hold until May 6th. I'll try to update more frequently after that. ;)


	16. Speculation

Now that the semester is over, I'll see about updating more frequently. My goal is to finish this by summer's end. Thank you to all who have added the story to your favorites and following. :)

* * *

_"My source told me it all started with you. He said that you were square one, the dirty little secret. He says that he knows who you are._

"_ –Simon Ross, Bourne Ultimatum_

The return of Marta Shearing is a relapse into the past, a strike in his face when he was _this_ close to tracking down Cross and hauling the rogue agent back to be dealt with. Hadn't she been part of the program they'd been trying to shut down as well? The question was whether this was an inconvenience or an asset.

"Dr. Shearing, we didn't expect you back. The labs are in disarray, since you left we haven't found a replacement, but I'm sure we can work something out between us."

Marta forces a smile. "You know that's not the only reason I'm here. A week ago one of your outcome agents kidnapped me and dragged me along as a hostage while you sent assassins to finish him off." She folds her hands on her knee and Byer begins to take on this game she's playing.

"Is this about retribution? One of the outcome agents goes psychopathic and you're looking for a small fortune to keep the incident between us?" _Where the hell is Cross? _he's burning to ask her. He can't know what the agent was thinking at the time, but why would he have just dropped Marta when he could've kept using her?

Marta looks him straight on. He's recalled times in the past when she was flustered he dropped in her office to cross-reference results.

"Cross wants this to end. He wants to be left alone."

"Left alone after we spent thousands of dollars of research on him, after he used our technology to viral himself off…"

"You know as well as I do what would've happened to him cognitively if he hadn't," Marta cuts off Mandy just a little too fast and Byer focuses on the slight inflection in her voice. "After you enhanced him, he'd have so much to lose. How do you reconcile yourself with giving an agent intelligence and then forcing him to endure the degrade process?"

"Careful, doctor, your ethics are showing."

"What else did he say?"

"He said Outcome had it coming to them and he's coming back to shut you all down."

There's a long pause in which Byer considers the ramifications—realistically, there isn't much Cross can do to shut the operation down, but he's had a life's worth of problems from Bourne already so he knows he'll have to deal with this like it's a threat. If Cross is coming back for vengeance, he needs to be guaranteed there are safeguards in place.

"We need to bring him down before he's threatened everything we've worked towards."

It isn't what he's been expecting Marta to say. _Running across continents with one of our agents and you haven't got a hidden agenda? _

* * *

"Number Five's been talking to Dr. Shearing." Mandy had brought the report along with updates on the Bourne situation when he'd been sorting through the Blackbriar files. But as soon as she'd said it, the files were no longer quite as important.

"How much has he said?"

"It's what he _hasn't_ said that's worse. He mentioned his fieldwork and if he put any ideas in her head…" she trails from the thought. "You know he's been more than we should handle from the beginning. You should've gotten rid of him ages ago before this situation progressed."

"Has she said anything to anyone else?"

"Not yet"

He could just see another Bourne situation happening; all it'd taken was one agent last time. "Ship him off somewhere. I don't care why or where but I want him isolated. When he's out in the middle of nowhere, we'll hone in on his 'chip and send in an assassin-strike. No traces, Dita. As for Shearing, we need to deal with her. It needs to look like an accident."

He'd hadn't initially been the one to plan it—that'd been Mandy, but he did admit it was a shame that Cross and Shearing couldn't have just kept following orders like everyone else.

* * *

Keep her on a tighter rein this time. Byer knows what she's capable of, from before. Who knows how much Cross' influence has had on her while they were alone together. All it takes is for a couple people to start a revolution.

"If you had any idea where Cross was, you'd tell us?"

"After what he did, don't you think I want him taken down just as much as you do?"

No, he didn't. As much as she might insist she was with them, Byer wasn't going to believe it until she'd prove it. Words had been all it took to start the dissent among the agents and words could be just as much manipulated here.

There were methods for lie detection and who knows how many signs Marta was displaying now as she might try to convince him she's still on his side. She has a large investment in the program- all the research, all the science she loves. A lifetime. A _lifetime_ she'd come to have and she'd changed her mind in just a week?

Of course he doesn't know. He can't know that she's lying so he'll wait for her to prove it. "You could find him again." Byer moves to the edge of his chair, watching her seriously while leaning to lightly grip her knee. Marta's gaze doesn't waver but he can feel her muscles tensing. "You helped bring the others in. Just think of him as your next target." He hands her the bag containing a single yellow triangular capsule. "Maybe you knew him better than anyone. And maybe, you could prove your word to do whatever it takes—he could tear down everything you've ever worked for, your whole life's research… _gone,_ in two days."

He's trusted her in the past, he could now. When she finds Cross, she'll lure him in with lies then drag him back…Cross thought he could hide forever? He can't.

Marta turns the capsule over in her fingers. "He's more advanced than the other agents. This wouldn't kill him outright, but that's what you wanted all along. I'll find him."

He sets her up with a computer and all the access codes she needs for the information. Mandy has final instructions for LARX-2 so she leaves to contact her and the other LARX agents to see where they are in their search for the rogue agents. Byer is left to his thoughts for awhile. While they've been about the agents in the past, it isn't about Bourne or Cross' illusiveness that dominates his attention now.

_There has to be more than science keeping her here. It isn't friendship, it can't just be ambition…does she need another incentive? _He needs to keep Marta where he wants her. _And to make you feel wanted? Before all this broke out, there were rumors you and Peter had feels for each other. Nothing helps loyalty like a relationship, does it, Marta? _He knows it'll take more on his part. If he walks up and says he's watched after her all this time, she wouldn't buy it.

He takes the chance when he walks in on her to see how she's doing. Her back is to him. Dark hair spills over her shoulders…when has she taken to wearing it loose? She scrolls down the page reviewing the search marks she's found cross-reverencing Cross in the system while nibbling on the cap of a pen. Is she thinking about the agent too? He can't tell.

"I missed you."

She starts at his voice, turning to stare and there's the suspended silence that says she doesn't know how to respond.

"We never expected you back. Once I'd found out an agent gone rogue had kidnapped you…it was just as much an operation to rescue you as it was to bring him in."

"Why send an assassin?" there's an edge to her voice, slight, but he knows what she's implying.

"I knew what it would take to take Cross down. We… _I _never wanted you in that position." Which was true enough. The assassin had been meant for Cross; Marta had just gotten in the way. "And I'm sorry you got caught up in it. It was my responsibility, Marta. My agent, my employee…my fault. No one can blame your actions in Manila if Cross was coercing you."

"It helps." She goes back to her work. "The last place I saw him was in Ohio before he left me on the side of the road. He might've made his way back here after I did. I'm not finding much else so far. If you trained him as well as you did, there's the chance that'll he'll reach us first."

He's tempted to move closer but he stays in the doorframe. "Are you afraid he'll come after you again?"

"No. He has no reason to."

"You didn't answer my question." He thinks that maybe she's afraid, but that it isn't Cross she's afraid of. "Would you believe me if I told you I'd make sure he didn't get at you again?"

"And how would you do that?"

He wants it to sound genuine so he makes himself believe it as he says it. "I wouldn't put you in situations where he'd hurt you. Him…or anyone. Marta, I know you won't believe if I told you I cared about what happens to you."

She stops typing, staring at the jumble of information on the screen without reading any of it.

"…I care about you."

The words hang in the air after he walks out before Marta has time to reply. But Byer doesn't see her turn and look after him, nor the way she clenches the pen hard enough for it to break and splatter droplets of ink on her lab coat.


	17. Kiss of Fate

_"Sooner or later, you remember something good."_

_"I do remember something good. All the time."_

_~Marie and Jason, Bourne Supremacy_

Jason jogged past the storefronts along Main Street, dodging window-shoppers idling around Queens Crossing. A NYU hoodie hugged his frame, sunglasses doubly shielding his eyes from the late evening glare and his identity from passers. He needed a new outlook on the whole Treadstone conspiracy—if only there was come leverage he could pull over Byer. He stopped at the intersection of Main and Roosevelt, to press the button to cross before dropping his hands to his knees and sucking in air to pace his breathing. _Like I'm going to get more than car-fumes here_ when exhaust and gasoline assaulted his nose. Still, it was home, wasn't it? This loud, crowded scrap of northeastern U.S. where space was a commodity, where sweat and fumes made you forget what flowers were and where tourists could be identified from a block away. When he looked up again, across the road, he saw among the pedestrians a woman with brunette air dangling above her shoulders.

_Marie_

Her eyes locked on his from across the stream of traffic.

His breath hitched, another walker jostled his side, a car horn blared as it turned around a corner, the light signaled red.

_I saw you die. I saw you die…and I couldn't stop it._

He continues staring while the kaleidoscope of city life progresses around them. Disbelief at how she's there, how she found him and hell did _Treadstone_ put on a show just to show him up one? She promised…

Marie had smiled-the gesture sliding onto her face—as he set the money on the counter. "You think you can handle one of these things, Bourne? It's not as good for high-speed car chasing."

He chuckled. "I thought the idea was I ask you for lessons."

"Taking _me_ out costs you extra." She came around the counter, running her fingers over his. "Though I suppose the first lesson could be free after your help. Did I say "thank you" already?"

"You might've."

She smiles coyly at him. "Then _thank you_." She came closer so her lips could brush his. His hands encircled her waist, pulling her nearer as she reached up to grab his shoulders to keep him in place. "Seriously, who needs lessons to ride a _scooter_? You need to work on your pickup lines."

She looks away and the spell is broken just as the signal to cross blinks on. Jason plunges into the street, each step bringing him closer to the past he'd thought was long gone…

"Marie?" he touches her shoulder and she stops to turn towards him. "Marie."

She stares up at him, body quivering with rapid breaths. "Jason…my gosh… how did…?"

"Where did….how… why…?" the questions tumble from his mouth before he can finish any of them. He_ has _to know. "You were dead. Treadstone… they killed you…"

"I thought they'd killed _you_. I waited so long for you to come back that night. Even when you didn't…"

As she continues, the words wash over him while he took her in at once—every detail, every inflection of her voice, every gesture she made. Every assurance that she was right in front of him.

Marie surged forward, a tentative kiss at first before she deepened it. He commits her taste to memory, the warmth of her body in his arms, the curve of her spine as she leans further into him…wordlessly recommitting through their embrace.

_Don't ask how or why. If she says it, it'll only make me hate Byer and Treadstone more. She's here…trust that. Forget about what they did and just swear it won't happen again. I've got her back…all that matters. Trust._

And for now, he does.

It hadn't originally been his idea to stay with Nicky, but she'd logically pointed out there weren't many other options available to him; patrons at a hotel might connect two and two and call the cops; safehouses were a risk that was out of the question…besides, there'd be that commute that someone might happen to follow Nicky when she brought him news. In the end, he'd been resigned to the arrangement when he'd triple-checked her flat for bugs and it'd come up clean. _"Had you expected anything else? Treadstone might be many things, but they haven't resorted to bugging my home yet" _she'd responded with a smirk at his over-meticulous searching.

"Is this where you've been?" Marie's gaze wanders around the flat as she follows him in. "You have a phone—you could've called."

"I didn't know." He wonders what Nicky will say when she comes back and finds Marie here, but she shouldn't mind. She knew all about Marie and it was just one more reason why Treadstone needed to be brought down. He's still marveling over it, not caring about the how it is she's in the same room with him again.

He finds her settled on the couch, looking towards the bay windows facing towards the street. With a smile, she accepts the coffee he offers her. "What's happened since I… since I've been gone?" she takes a sip without blowing on it first, which he finds unusual. But he's never seen her drink coffee before. They're both taking it black.

"Nicky and I are taking on Treadstone after all they did to us. Someone's got to shut them down."

Her brows furrow. "Nicky" she says tactfully, but in a disapproving voice that suspects…

He can't help laughing at her suspicion. "She's just _helping_ me, Marie. It's not like she and I are…together."

She relaxes minimally. "But not your apartment."

"It was her idea to stay here for now. What other option would I have? Spend the nights in Byer's office when everyone's long gone and annoy the heck out of him? A different place every other night so I can stay one step ahead of them? And you…Nicky won't mind. She knew about us." He set his mug down to take both her hands in his and kiss them. "Whatever happened before…it doesn't matter now. You're safe here. They're not going to pull us apart again; and don't say you can't do anything to help."

"Can I"

"It's the three of us against an entire governmental organization that goes against every code of humanity. Of course you can."

She smiles, genuinely. "Of course _you_ need me, Jason. Remember before, we were thinking about the future we'd have. Together."

"Marie when all this is over and if we're still alive…" _And what's our chances of that? Maybe they'd end up winning in the end, or it wouldn't be our battle to end. For all we know, another agent could be out there fighting against us just so he could have the last word against Treadstone. _He looks at her seriously. He needs to say it. "If we make it…I want you to be my wife. But not before this is over." He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb as he continues to hold her close.

* * *

She isn't sure that she likes these feelings, having to pretend that she loves. It isn't enough that she pretends for his sake, but for making herself believe that what she experiences is more than lies.

She remembers now—that past when she'd seek the solace of another, sneaking around program officials to share her fears and experiences with the single person who'd understand.

I'm an agent. I can't have these feelings.

He was no more than a vague memory. A past life before she'd dedicated everything to the LARX program. For all she knew, he was long dead or he'd been recruited into LARX as well and no longer had need of the memories either.

"If we make it…I want you to be my wife. But not before this is over."

"I would, Jason." And she's glad he's holding her and doesn't see her face. Her voice is the only thing then that doesn't betray the fact that he's compromising her against her programming.


	18. Allowances

_"I don't suppose it would do me much good to cry for help, huh?"_

_-Ward Abbot, Bourne Supremacy_

She hadn't expected to make much headway in one afternoon, but it was still hard to swallow the frustration and return to Aaron with so few results. _It's what I deserve after thinking I could singlehandedly land the information myself and that it wouldn't be guarded beneath passwords known only to the director… _it was tempting really when she thought back to what Eric Byer had been going on about. He might be the head of the organization and the poster boy for everything to hate about it, but she couldn't place it that easily. _What if he was willing—if I told him I had similar feelings…? _

Lie. She'd done it before. The most convincing lies being the ones that she could act well enough to make _herself_ believe they were true. _Byer confessing to caring for me? _After this, nothing would surprise her as much.

_He's in love with you; he wants to use you; he knows about Aaron. _The possibilities nagged insistently on the front of her mind as she shut down her computer and gathered the meager finds she'd made (it wasn't as though she could be at her peak efficiency after Byer's confession)—there hadn't been much in the Bourne files but one name had come up a few times. Pamela Landy had been a task chief officer in the CIA until she'd run up into trouble with Bourne. All Marta had been able to find was something about critical documents being stolen and then nothing was to be found in Landy's files. "Retired from duty" was all she'd been able to find but Marta knew "fired" when she saw it.

Maybe if she could contact Landy, she could figure some things out.

She would never confess herself to be manipulative, but the fact of the matter is that _if_ she could convince Byer she was on his side, she could figure out his weaknesses. While she drives back to the safehouse, she tries to convince herself it would be for the better to keep it from Aaron. _He doesn't have to know. It's better if he doesn't. If I told him Byer admitted to liking me and that I wanted to play into that…he'd take it too seriously. _Neither of them would say they were together exactly, but Aaron was more protective towards her than she'd consider normal and more and more he was the only person she could trust. She felt safe with him, wanted to be with him… wanted to be all his. At a stop, her eyes wandered to the yellow capsule that she'd tossed onto the passenger seat.

_You promised Byer you'd do what it took to take Aaron down. If you play the game right so they both believe it, you can't hurt one without hurting the other. It will mean hurting Aaron. _

Plan C had been the capsule. And she'd been the one to help create it. They'd all called it the suicide pill, saying it was only for emergencies, for the times when extractions were impossible and agents would use the pill at their own discretion, but she'd seen the lab reports of the dead agents. Brain hemorrhaging. _Her_ pill had been in their systems in the final hours. Three healthy agents who hadn't called in any states of distress…Aaron had accused her of filling the gun but this time she'd pulled it too. She'd never known their names, never paid any attention, but she'd pointed the gun and pulled the trigger.

_You're going to end up hurting him…and losing him. There's no way around it. _

* * *

Of course he doesn't remember missing her this much until she comes back through the door and he doesn't wait to think of whether he should or shouldn't until he's got her in his arms _safe_. She'd probably hate knowing how much he worried while she was gone. Aaron holds back his questions for her sake although he's burning to know how it went, what happened, what they said…

"It worked so far. They trusted me enough to give me access to files, privy to information and their confidence…" she trailed off, making Aaron more than a little tempted to demand the details. _What does "confidence" with Byer entail anyway? That man's worse than a rat and you're talking about being in his secret circle. What next. Lunch dates? Closed meetings? _He couldn't stand the thought of Byer getting that close to Marta, even if she wasn't technically his girlfriend or anything…he and her still counted for _something_ didn't they?

Marta pulled away. "Thank you for not asking."

Aaron waved it off, although now he wish he _had_ asked and whether it wasn't too late to still do it. "I made some dinner though it went a bit cold waiting for you. Not much, just whatever I could scrounge from cans and boxes…turns out spaghetti. I'll work out something better tomorrow."

_Then again, maybe she wants something else. _Aaron watched Marta toy the noodles around her fork, rarely moving it off the plate. He didn't have much of an appetite while he was still playing masochist and teasing out every possible outcome to "privy to Byer's confidence". None of which ended well. He couldn't be sure where exactly they stood in their relationship if "relationship" was even the right word. _Who's playing who here now? For all I know, you're the one playing me now. Just a play to stay, just someone to watch your back, just someone you don't think about while you're in Byer's "confidence". _The longer he indulged in the thoughts, the more of a hypocrite he felt. Marta wanted Treadstone taken out just as much as he did so she wouldn't be going behind his back with Byer of all people. Unable to stand it anymore, Aaron got up to stick his untouched meal in the refrigerator and headed off to bed. "Tired" he mumbled by excuse as he passed her.

He didn't bother turning the light on. Just closed the door and lay back on the bed staring into the darkness and wondering how he could impress Marta. _Maybe we could do a date. Running for our lives wasn't exactly an ideal situation for getting to know each other… maybe one of those fancy dinner, romantic walk in a park or something… what the hell am I doing? We can't date until Outcome is over. Unless… _

There had to be a way to reconcile his feelings for Marta with the mission. What if one of them died before he had the chance to tell her? What if another man caught her eye and she assumed all this time that she was just a conspiracy partner to him?

Conspiracy. Aaron went for the door. In all his worries about how it'd gone, he'd forgotten to ask her if she'd found anything. Marta must've gone to bed not long after he did because all she'd left on the table was a phone number with Pamela Landy scrawled under it. "Worked with Jason" she'd added as an afterthought.


	19. Coming Together

_"Why'd you do it?"_

_"This isn't what I signed up for. What they did to you. Blackbriar. This isn't us." _

_"Then do something about it. Everything you need is in there."_

_ ~Jason and Landy, Bourne Ultimatum _

* * *

_"You know the cost for doing this. You don't have to. I can keep the files, copy them on my own."_

_"With half the government on your back? Bourne, you might be good, but you're not that good. If you stay anyplace long enough to do it, they'll catch you." Landy unlocked her case to toss the files in. "I'll buy you some time. By the time they figure it out, I can get this to go live."_

_"Be careful."_

_"I'm CIA. They can't do much to me." She'd lied for his benefit even though she knew he saw through it. "Now get out of here."_

_The last she saw of Bourne was of the agent disappearing into the shadows. Treadstone wouldn't be far behind. _

Pamela Landy never called herself an instigator, but she wouldn't stand for something that went against her morals. And it wasn't as though the conflict with Treadstone had left her jobless—it just wasn't employment that was at her skill level. They could ruin her if they wanted. For a while she'd thought she'd only had the one chance to do a part in this; after all, Bourne hadn't contacted her since. The occasional stories that leaked to the press were the only indication she received that he was still out there.

_"I'm not the person you want to know on a long-term basis. Treadstone will come after anyone I'm in contact with. It's better if I do this alone," he'd confessed to her. Even though she could tell that he hated being alone. It might be what survival called for but it wasn't what he wanted. Everyone deserved some chance at normalcy. _

She'd been waiting for him to call after all this time so when the phone rang, she grabbed it on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Deputy Director Landy?"

She shifted the phone, knowing she shouldn't have expected it to be Bourne. "Who is this?"

"My name's Aaron Cross. I'm an ex-Outcome agent and I need your help."

Anyone connected with Treadstone was enough to raise warning flags for her, to avoid them if she could help it, but Landy can't just rely on Jason to get things done anymore. So, a half hour later she is standing outside a safehouse door and studying Aaron Cross' face for the truth. He's a trained agent— more than her— so he could remain impassive or enough to keep her guessing.

"They aren't watching you yet?"

"No… not that we…no." He motions her inside and closes the door behind her. "We might have a week if we're lucky. Probably less if she's working with Byer now…" he trails off, making Landy wonder if she came at a bad time.

"And how was I supposed to help you?" The first thing to do is focus on the situation, gain control of emotions and push everything else to the back of your mind. Hadn't this been part of his training? And who was this "she"? Love and conspiracy never mixed…she probably should've told him about Jason and Marie before she agreed to help him.

"You were connected with Jason Bourne. Don't deny it; it was in the file." His eyes meet hers and Landy likens their color to staring into a storm. "I need to find him."

"A lot of people want to find him." She isn't convinced until he makes a better move. "You could've been employed by Treadstone to sniff me out and see what I know. Why should I?"

"Landy…this is bigger than all of us and you know it. They've been riding us like paws for how many years…first Jason and then Outcome. You know _why_ Outcome was started? To find Bourne. That was always our objective until byer decided things were going too slowly and used us for other things in the meantime while he zeroed in on Bourne's trail."

Landy doesn't miss the ghosts of past crimes lurking in his eyes. She recognizes something she'd seen in Bourne's eyes as well. _Being used_. It's a familiar feeling—she's gotten it from Treadstone too, even if she hadn't been directly involved… "Aaron, if you're serious about this, I need you to trust me."

She's not the one he's comfortable with—"who is she?"

His expression hardens, the mask falls back down which reminds Landy she's playing a risk here, but she can't let another woman get in the way. She watched it destroy Jason from the inside, even if he'd never let on about it, and she'll stop it before it happens again. "Being in love isn't an asset here, Aaron. I've seen it go wrong before… no, _look_ at me, either you trust someone with your life or you can't trust them at all in this game."

"She's different."

"She's a liability. If Treadstone got to her, it's one more innocent life that _you_ risked. Whatever she's done for you, does she deserve…?"

"I need to find Bourne."

"Prove it," she challenges, wanting to see what this ex-agent is made of. Prove you won't wind up like Jason.

He goes into everything from the beginning—at least he'd taken the trusting seriously, she'd give him credit there—being recruited into Outcome since it was one of his few options left. They'd made him better, stronger_, smarter_ and she couldn't help noticing the way his hands tightened in his lap or the frequent pauses he took while he talked about watching the cognitive degrade and what would've happened to him if he hadn't viralled off.

"If there's anything I learned from training, it wasn't how to kill, it was how to survive. It was me making my own way in the world with their resources and being in their debt. I don't want to do that anymore. I'm done with their 'sin eaters' and questionable suicide runs."

And then he talks about Marta, the woman he loves. She wasn't just another innocent, she'd been one of them so how_ hadn't_ that been justified when they're both just trying to survive? She could've run, but she didn't.

"And then…she saved my life. Not just once." He dares Landy to argue the point now, voice rises as continues. "And she's just as locked in this as I am now. So you tell me she's a liability. You tell me I'm risking her life when she's the one staying, when _she _won't leave and when we're the only one each other has."

Oh, she knows better than to go on about it now. Jason wouldn't have listened before either and Aaron clearly won't so she'll overlook it for now.

"If you want my help, Byer doesn't get stabbed in the back. We can expose Treadstone in court _if _you're willing to publicly confess everything you told me. _Everything_ they did to you."

His voice lowers. "Won't that put me in with them? When they find out the things Outcome made me do…is it wrong to want a normal life after this?" Aaron gets up to wander back and forth a few times, glancing out the windows. "If I thought that Marta would want…the organization threw her life on end and I'm a product of it. She's not. She's better."

I can't make her stay with you. This goes down, we're all going down together but she could still be taken out of it. You don't want her hurt, she doesn't have to be. It won't work.

Landy's thinking it to herself, but it isn't until Aaron rounds on her that she realizes she was thinking it _outloud._

"Maybe _you're_ the one you're trying to convince now."

* * *

He'd thought Marta would've given him a better lead, other than an ex-CIA deputy who is convinced that he and Marta can't be together. Going public with his life isn't an option he wants to take either. How many on a jury—or even the judge—wouldn't have the mantra "_interior motives" _while he went through being on the Outcome drugs and murdering innocents just cos he was told to? How many would actually take his side?

He wouldn't admit it to Landy—heaven knows he's already told her enough, _more _than enough—but the thought of being locked away as a willing participant conspiring with Treadstone scares him more than anything else now.

Aaron can imagine testifying before a jury—yes, he willingly took the drugs. Yes, it was only in Alaska when his life was threatened that he finally broke away from the organization. Yes, he continued to use Outcome resources and used their technology for his own survival. He might try to get a word in edgewise about his motivations, or that he wanted to be done, that he was taking the steps to rid himself of Byer and the rest…but they'd point out what he'd done.

What I've done.

Landy gets up without another word. Take or leave the offer, but personal vendettas satisfied won't help anyone; you might kill Byer but there's a whole organization behind him. Aaron knows.

"What about Bourne? If I'm coming through with this, isn't he just another victim?"

"We're all the victims. We just can't do this your way anymore." She pulls out a scrap of paper from her purse to write a number down. "Don't contact me again with the number you got from Treadstone. They might be tapping into it."

He glanced down at the name written at the bottom.

"You want to find Bourne, that's your best chance. Good luck." Then she leaves him to muse on what to say to Bourne, and how to tell Marta about all this.


	20. The Original Objective

**Hoping to have this done by the end of next month, so we'll see. I'll definitely try to update sooner in the future. Funny how the further I get into the plot, the harder it is to write. **

**Thanks for reading and please review! :) **

* * *

"…_start to consider the magnitude of what we're facing if this moves sideways on us."_

_-Byer, Bourne Legacy_

If there's a noose tightening around the remaining agents, Mandy can almost feel the twined cord in her hands and their panting breaths. Another report of a slain Outcome agent has just arrived and she was sincerely sorry it hadn't been Cross.

"I need a way to track him." Right now, the best chance is Byer who knew the agent better than she did. "Weren't there any additional measures beside the tracking device?"

"The LARX agents…"

"I've got two of them here and ready to tear him apart if you point the direction." Mandy folded her arms, turning her head at a knock at the door. Seeing Marta there only sours her mood. "She _knows_ where he is. And if you don't get an answer out of her in twelve hours, I'll do it my way."

Byer catches Marta's attention and waves her away. "What's the status on your agent with Bourne? I'm not worried about Cross as much as I am about him."

She notes the defense in his voice—she's on his territory now with the Bourne pursuit. His little pet project that he can't stand anyone else helming. "You aren't the only one who has the authority to do this. If he sees you, he's more likely to jump right over you again. And don't give excuses. He played you before...for the joy of it. Do you really think he'd give you another chance?"

"When he doesn't fall for your trap, then what?" His voice raises, but it doesn't faze her as much as he probably hopes it will. "You sent in an agent way in over her head, Mandy. Way in over her skill set. She doesn't know anything about love or seducing or playing a part and you think some girl who happens to have Kreutz' face is going to go beneath all of Bourne's common sense."

"Wouldn't the face of your dead lover make you forget more common sense then you'd want to admit to yourself later?" Her phone buzzes and she checks it to find the message she's been waiting for. "LARX 2 has Bourne's location. She'll submit coordinates as soon as she has him in an open area." Beat that. You might be the head of this organization, but I'm still the one with the better resources. "I'll have the two LARX agents waiting. In the meantime, do what you're going to do with Dr. Shearing and do it soon."

* * *

"All this time I was gone, did you remember?" It's a risk she's playing because if he makes her name specific memories that weren't covered in the file, her cover's blown. She likes the risks; to her superior's dislike, she's always played for the risks.

"I never forgot." He looks her over again, recollecting all those details she knows she painfully got right. "What would you say if there wasn't another chance?"

She'd known better than to call out the agent's to Nicky's house, which Bourne would've called out as suspicious so she'd bidden her time until he'd had some motivation to leave the safety of the house. As they idled their way to the park, Marie kept an eye out for the LARX agents Mandy had told her would be in pursuit. Whenever she caught Bourne watching her, she knew he fell for the ruse. All it would take was a few minutes more….could she risk fighting against him when the stakes were revealed? She declines to answer his question.

* * *

The first time Nicky had walked in on him and Marie she'd looked surprised, the second time annoyed and the times after, hurt; as though she couldn't stand to see them together. Since when had Marie posed a threat? He and Nicky were only conspirators. In all their time together, they'd been united by a resolve to destroy _Byer's_ work and she'd made no mention of it being any more or any less. It shouldn't have mattered to her.

Jason kept his attention on faces, reading the indifferences, the forced politeness…and somehow a poker face made him blind to attack until he doubled over from a punch to the stomach. He struck out, blocking another blow on his arm and joined a counterstrike to the man's jaw, which was deflected.

"Jason, behind you!"

He spun, ducking an aim to his head from another hostile. They fought a closed style similar to what he'd picked up from training—anticipating the moves and blocking fists with hands or the arm spanning from wrist to elbow; the moves flowed into each other…short and deadly, compact. He'd been taught to fight in tight spaces, keeping the moves small and his opponent close. When he did score a punch to one of the men's jaw, the other threw him sideways into a clearance rack. Metal collides into his shoulder blades, eliciting a brief groan when he blinks ack stars from a blow to his face.

Marie, where's she? Have they gotten her? He pushes to his feet, swinging an offensive.

"You're done, Bourne," says the agent, getting through his defenses again—this time with a stun gun.

* * *

She imagines how the real Marie would respond while they're beating up Jason. She would've fought herself, perhaps knocked out already and given the ex-agent more reason for fighting or else gone for help.

She isn't Marie; these actions aren't included in her acceptable responses. Acceptable is relative.

This was her objective—to deliver Bourne to the agents, no other responses matter so long as they don't hinder the outcome. But when an outsider joins the brawl, Outcome has made his own mind to challenge her objective.

* * *

He's not supposed to attract attention. The headquarters of Treadstone, of Outcome aren't far enough away to permit him to make mistakes now. They bring me in and Marta risks her own life if she defends me. When that happens, you're supposed to treat me as a hostile, as the agent who kidnapped and held you hostage but I know you'll never stick to it when they end up doing something.

Aaron keeps to himself on the streets. He's only one of the crowd, s nobody to anyone who happens to notice. They'll see him for an instant than forget him, as Outcome taught him to do.

_They might see you but you'll only be the person they glimpse from the corner of their eye. When you're caught in the crowd, you're just another shadow. You're no one remarkable. _

Head down and hands shoved in his pockets protecting his phone, the paper Landy left for him and the ring Marta bought him that left a greenish ring around his finger when he kept wearing it out of cheap sentimentality when he was alone. It's stupid. Sometimes a ring is just for a cover. Sometimes the lack of emotions is what sells the act. He knows from training that the least emotional response behind an act, the more easy it is to fool everyone to the lie.

Including myself?

_There's no room for sentiments of emotions in training. What you were is irrelevant. What you are and what you will become are your responsibility from this point. Failure is no one's fault but your own. _

_Stick to the objective._

Aaron's head snaps up when he hears the sounds of a fight. Up ahead, passersby are giving a wide berth—knowing they aren't meant to be involved. A civilian can't take on a trained agent of Outcome.

_We take the moral excrement. We bury it down deep inside of us. _

He quickens his pace as he sees the three figures in close combat. It's hard to be sure from this distance, but one might be the assassin from Ohio.

Byer always chewed him out for being 'damn curious' and 'resisting authority' which were usually to be found written in his evaluations. He'd been stupid enough to make an honest response back then, earning a detention. After that, though Aaron kept his mouth shut about morals and civil duties, nothing stopped him from thinking them. No one could.

_I need you to stop what you're doing and turn around. _

Aaron is drawn closer. It's one man against two. Even if it was nothing more than a civilian brawl, someone has to stop it.

_Stick to the objective. This doesn't concern you._

He isn't going to walk by while an innocent man dies. Not again.

_Stick to the objective._ Byer's voice grows in his mind the more Aaron's resolve to involve himself is made. He recognizes the assassin first then sees the gun in his hand that directs his attention to the victim.

_Bourne's the enemy. You come across him and you take him out without a question. He betrayed the organization. He chose to die. Take him out. Without a question. He's your moral excrement, Cross. He's the only time when the objective and the morals are the same thing. _

"To hell with objective." Aaron grabs the assassin from behind, twisting his wrist beyond the endurance of bone and muscle to tear the gun from his fingers. When the wrist breaks, the assassin as before shows no pain. For all of the training, there has to be a fault in the programming when Aaron is enough of a distraction to tear the assassin's attention from his objective. Or, more likely, if the assassin is connected to Treadstone and Byer, _Aaron_ has become his new objective. The other assassin turns on him and the ex-agent finds himself pinned by both the super-assassins. He can defend himself against one, but two have him almost cowering beneath a shower of blows. For all that he's been enhanced, he's not immune against the pain as they are. While he blocks a fist meant for his stomach, the other one cracks his nose. Aaron reels back tasting blood, but that instant of recovery costs him a savage kick to the ribs—bruising—, another strike that splits his lip and enough force to send him into the pavement spitting blood.

Bourne must be out if they aren't concerned with him.

Aaron rises to his feet, forcing his body to its limit in speed to dodge the assassins. His instinct is to run, to get them to follow, but he knows he wouldn't be enough to lure them from their original objective.

I can't take them both on. The thought is fleeting but it still has Byer yelling about consequences, desertion…the objective.

_Follow your objective._

He parries off the blows when one of the assassins is distracted. "Jason, I'm on your side!" Aaron licks the remaining assassin in the knee to send him stumbling back and takes those precious seconds to meet Bourne's eyes and wills the rogue agent to trust him. "Outcome Five. _I'm on your side_."

Jason's expression is locked, like any Treadstone agent is trained to have. He knew Bourne would never trust him at first glance anymore than he'd trust the assassins trying to kill him.

_Complete the objective. Take Bourne down. You wanted the moral and the objective to be the same thing. Take him down, Cross. Complete the objective. Complete the objective!_

Byer's voice _screaming_ in his head is enough to make him falter when the assassin renews his attacks with a vigor. Aaron stumbles to his knees.

* * *

Jason watches the assassin take out Outcome Five with the gun cracked against the side of his head before he takes his own gun to shoot the assassin stone dead. When he stops trying to crawl towards him, Jason lowers the gun. The other assassin is gone.

"Jason, who were they? Why did they fight like that?" Marie draws near from the sidelines. Was she watching the entire time? Her eyes lock on Outcome Five crumpled and bleeding on the pavement. And it's then that he sees _objective_ spark in her eyes. She knows who he is. When she finally does turn her attention on him, Jason knows he's waited too long to answer the question. Even if she wasn't involved in the fight, he thinks she was just as invested as any of them in it.

"How much do you know?"


	21. Sins

**Experimenting a bit with the pairing in this chapter. And for once I am able to update in less than a week. Reviews, please? **

_"…it doesn't start to come back. The knot's like everything else. I just found the rope and I did it."_

_-Jason, Bourne Identity_

It's faster than she thought it would happen but she's privy to the classified intel as she works her way through the medical records, pulling out lost agent or outdated files. Marta suspects they'll all outdated at this point—whether through agents KIA or conversion. At least three of them took her pill. And one more pill waits to be given to Aaron. It wouldn't kill him; it would only incapacitate him for a few hours. Wouldn't he want me doing whatever it took to gain Byer's trust? It still twisted her heart a bit whenever she thought about administering the pill—crushing it up to add to his food or drink, lying about what it was or telling him and having him down it dry. He'd trust her judgment, of course, but she couldn't do it. Not to him.

LARX.

This file is unfamiliar so she pulls it out. As she drags it to the front of the pile, several separate clipped formed fall out. She sorts them by agent ranking. The first one, helpfully designated LARX 01, she recognizes as the assassin that all but had Aaron corned at the station in Ohio. Her eyes roam over physical performance charts, field training and success rates… this isn't just training. It's _engineering._ Byer worked up a new race of agents when the ones at Outcome weren't good enough and devoted incredible amounts of efforts and government finances into them. And while she can't know Aaron's performance levels post-viralling off, she has the grim suspicions that he isn't meant to take on LARX. If Outcome was the beta program, LARX is the alpha. The replacement. Agents that can be thrown into a situation and be trusted to complete the objective without questioning the why; agents that have no wayward feelings or even natural pain response. Is this why they want Aaron? To upgrade him? He'd never do it….he'd…

The pill.

The pill would be the first step. Maybe it wasn't hers anymore—for all Marta knew, they had taken her initial chemical engineering and concocted it specifically for Aaron, to weaken his resistance. He could be the next assassin chasing me down and he'd never remember before…

LARX isn't just one, it's several. Five men, two women, according to the records which she can't know are up-to-date. There could be twice that number by now.

"…lost another one. That's two agents down and not a shred of accomplishment to show for it."

"She had Bourne there. _Why didn't she do anything?_ I told you she was a compromised decision. You can't send an alpha in to do a beta's job—we specifically made her so she wouldn't fall victim like her predecessors."

"She would've had him in here by now if complications hadn't arisen."

As Mandy and Byer's voices drew nearer. Marta hurries to replace the LARX files as she found them. No matter what Byer might say, Mandy would have her dragged out in an alley and riddled with bullets if Marta flaunted her new knowledge in their faces. When the door opens, she's pouring over Aaron's file like she's trying to discover his physical weaknesses; comparing this to LARX only reminds her how much more vulnerable he is to these master assassins. Against more than one, he stands little chance.

"Cross is in the city."

Her heart speeds up a bit even before Byer has finished saying it. He'll know I know where and kept it from him all this time, nevermind using the pill on him… I should do Aaron justice and use it on Byer himself. "Where?" she keeps her reply brief to avoid her tone betraying her.

"Close by." Byer pulls a chair over so he's sitting quite close to her. "He and Bourne managed to dispatch one of our top agents and somehow weren't courteous enough to leave a forwarding address. If you know anywhere he might be you need to tell me. He's a liability right now. You've seen the state agents come back in; you of all people should know the risks we're running while he's lose out there." He rotates her chair just enough so he can rest his on both arms and keep her from diverting her attention. "Think of this from a scientific perspective—Cross is the first asset to be viralled off the blues. We haven't gotten the chance to test this yet. Maybe he's fine now, but tomorrow he could go off the deep-end like Dr. Foite did and destroy how many innocent civilians because now he sees them as his objectives. How many innocents are you willing to risk?"

"He's not that kind of man—"

"You met him thirteen times and was held hostage for several days by him. How would you know what kind of man he is. How would you know he hasn't been playing you all this time."

Marta curls her fingers in her lap to resist the urge of slapping Byer across the face.

"Think of the scientific angle and then think of what he could do to this organization out of revenge for what he claims we put him through. No matter what humble excuse for s**t he told you, he _chose_ to enter the programming."

"I'm aware of that. But the choice made at an earlier time doesn't reflect the opinion he might hold now."

"Outcome Five was a victim on a convoy hit. Do you really think he could've gone back into normal society even if he'd had a normal IQ? We stepped in to help him with the rest of his life." Byer reached across her to tap at the agent's file, not breaking eye contact. "We gave him the training, the intelligence he couldn't dream of, the resources to make something of himself and he defects on us."

"But he…" she feels compelled to say _something_ and defend Aaron, but the director won't have any of it.

"It was before Alaska. You know it was. He came into the exams with intel that wasn't his to share. You can look at this from a personal standpoint or you can take it from the larger one and focus on the threat he posed to the entire organization."

"I don't…" she paused, forcing a deep breath, trying not to focus on Byer's more and more convincing arguments. "I don't think you understand."

"You're the one who doesn't understand."

_"I won't deny some of the things they made me do. It was about survival at first—chems that were able to make me better than I could ever be on my own, but it became a constant fight where they were determined to stamp out any moral objections I might have and substitute my objectives with theirs."_

_When he'd let his guard down around her, Marta hadn't only seen the pain in his eyes but felt it seeping into every confession he'd made to her. _

_"I should've said no. I didn't." _

Byer closes the file. "I might not be able to make you agree with my reasons, but I can at least make you see them. We've all had our own motives that brought us to this point. Think on your own sins."

He's right. I'm no more innocent than he is. My efforts to the organization could be considered worse since I should've known it was wrong—and I didn't consider the outcomes. All I saw was the science.

"You know where he is. Ask yourself which side you're on and make contrition for your own sins before you accuse anyone else of motives."

"You want Cross and Bourne for the LARX upgrade" she sees his brow twitch upward more from amusement than surprise. "Once they're as harmless as those other top agents, then there's no one left to call you out except a few inside people who you'll send those new LARX agents after. There'll be no one left to accuse you of your sins. That's what you want: an army of agents that can't be stopped. When you surround yourself with then, maybe you'll be safe or maybe that perfect programming will fail…like everything else does in the end." Silence follows her words and Marta doesn't care about being so forwards, for telling him the truth instead of scumming to all the lies like she's done for her entire career.

_Who tells you that this is okay?_

I didn't make your choice for you. All that rage at me was just the regret you'd built up against yourself for years and finally found a channel for it. Why didn't you ask yourself if it was okay before you signed up.

_You just hold the gun._

I hold the gun, but you're the one who took the step in front of it. If you were as moral as you claimed to be, you would've never allowed yourself to be shot.

And it's at that moment that Marta's at peace with herself since Aaron accused her of being part of the evil. Byer could kill her now, but at least she's had her say. She's ready to pay for what she's done in the past.

"You think you could escape, but you're in as deep as anyone else responsible is," Byer murmurs, bringing a hand up to cradle her face before he comes forward to claim her lips with his own.

She's initially taken aback, but his confidence assures her to partake of the forbidden fruit and reciprocate in turn as he domineers her. The shame that it's Byer and not Aaron she's allowing to kiss her is shoved to a dark corner of her mind. She wants to be wanted. He deepens the kiss, arousing memories of a hand in hers, of knowing Aaron was beside her, of feeling his body pressed against hers as he kept away all her fears, of wanting to have more with him…

When he pulls away, she's left breathless, warmth having invaded her body and waiting for more.

"You know where to find Cross."


	22. Vendetta, Pt 1

**A bit shorter this chapter, but I wanted to post it cos otherwise I won't have a chance till next week. And thanks to all the 46 followers. Reviews are welcome! **

* * *

_"There are people that care about you that think you're dead. And there's nothing you can do about it."_

_-Aaron, Bourne Legacy _

If Treadstone is shut down, her fellow agents will be hunted until she's the only one left. There isn't room for her. Bourne is just the objective, only a façade of what anyone else would be feeling in her position. She doesn't know love; she hasn't known it for years. Even those memories—were they even hers at one point—feel no more like illusions of what she could scum to.

"We all have our secrets, Jason."

His survival rate surpasses her for she knows, choking back that bitter tang of reality, that for all the advancements made for LARX, she can't adapt. Emotion may be a foreign concept but it's also a scruple. Training taught her to live without it after proving to her what a danger it was, the things it would make her do.

"You've been dead since the car accident."

"You've been dead since I've met you," she counters. "Since you first were pulled from drowning by some dingy, you've lost your objective and know you're stumbling around trying to find orders that aren't there." How dare he try to manipulate her to showing emotions she doesn't want to feel. She doesn't want to try to love him anymore. All she wants now is a new objective, an _easier _one. She could kill Bourne where he stands, but she can't make herself love him anymore.

Jason doesn't quite stare, but it isn't an accidental glance either. "If I had a second chance…" he takes back the original thought and finishes with a mumble, "I make my own objectives."

Traitor.

She would kill him now. She wants to kill him more than anything. If this is one of the forbidden desires meant to be purged from her, she'd rather have it then his affection.

_Stand down, complete the objective. Keep Bourne where he is. Keep him trusting you. _She recalls the most recent orders, having to stand aside, a civilian, while her fellow agents subdue her objective.

_You aren't trained to feel this way anymore, these emotions only destroyed your predecessors. _

He knows her game. The question now is what he's waiting for—to betray her? To use her? Wanting her? If he overminds her again, she'll go back to central with more than just failure. In the beginning there were other candidates to the LARX program who were shut down after they'd been unsuccessful in their outcomes. The deputy director said they had no excuse. They had talents no agent before then had ever had; more was expected and the fall was greater.

LARX 2 feels that stirring of old emotion, past memories creeping up on her in what she'd left behind when she sees Outcome Five again.

"I need permission for evacuation. Objectives achieved. Both Bourne and Outcome Five are contained." I can't do this anymore, she wants to add. I can't be so close to the objective and not be allowed to complete it.

"If you call them out now, your cover is blown. We need you to monitor them."

"Acknowledged." She hides the transmitter back away and unlocks the room where Bourne chose to keep Cross until he can get Parsons to confirm the identity, but rather than entering, she paces outside of it. She knows what will happen if she goes in that room.

Now that her memories had a face again. If she hears him say the name, she's afraid she'll forget her training. Fear? Why should she be afraid when she's above all those ridiculous _human _emotions? What better way to prove her resistance than to meet the temptation head-on…

She meets him face to face, now that he's still her objective—near enough to slit his throat—allowing herself no outward susceptibility to emotion when he says the name she hasn't heard in several months.

* * *

"You're mixed up in this mess too? They haven't…you aren't…cripes, why couldn't you have contacted me sooner?" She might be a brunette now, hair barely brushing her shoulders, but he'd never forget her. "I didn't know you were still alive. After they took you away, I thought… _June_." Aaron wants to take her in his arms, to go through the motions and remember two dozen other times when it was just them together but she makes no move towards the slightest indication of intimacy. So he does it for her: pulling her into a kiss, pouring himself into the action and trying not to register the fact that her hands aren't on him, her lips pliable to his.

When her hand does come settle on his chest it's to push him away and keep him at arm's length. "I was chosen for the special op, Aaron. I wasn't allowed to make contact. Why would I want to when I was given the chance to be something more, something that only a half dozen other agents could merit?"

"Wasn't Outcome enough for you then? You're here now because you're in the same position I am, aren't you—you want to escape the organization that made you so much only to make you _do_ so much."

"How many days are there when you regret all that, Aaron?" She pushes him onto his back, sitting aside his waist. "How many days do you wish you could take back what those chems made you able to do, take back the days we had together, take back every completed outcome?"

"Outcomes that came at the price of innocent lives." He stares up into her face, trying to gauge her reaction. "We both went through it. Remember that time you wanted to get out of the program but there wasn't a way out then cause it would've been treason? June…we can get out now."

She leans in close to him, soft kisses to his cheek. "Aaron, you've lost focus." Her voice lowers to a whisper, "what's your objective?"

Objective. Bourne, find Jason Bourne and bring him in.

"Find your objective, _complete the objective_."

He shoves back the mental twinges of programming and takes June's wrist to pull her to lay beside him. "You were the only one who didn't call me by my program name. You knew that?"

"I knew." Her lips quirk upwards, ghosting a smile. "Kenneth might've been dead to everyone else, but not to me."

* * *

Despite her best intentions, LARX 2 knows the suppression of emotions lies more with her failing conditioning than anything else. She can't make herself not feel when she's this close to him again.

Outcome Five. Objective. Objective.

It's one thing to deny with distance; it's another thing to deny herself when his body is pressed against hers. What if this interferes with her objective? What if she can't complete it when she's tied down by her feelings again?

"The last time I saw you was almost nine months ago, when we spent the night and the next day you weren't anywhere to be found. Then they said you were dead." He brushes his fingers through her hair, his other hand cradling her back. "You couldn't have told me just once?"

"Couldn't risk the objective, Kenneth."

"Don't say that word."

He might say he's leaving, but Outcome's trace was still on him with their conditioning of 'objective'. When she says it, she can feel the way his body reacts.

"All the agents have their objective. You know yours."


	23. Shades of Memory

**Having a bit of writers' block for where to precede next with events so stuck mostly with flashbacks. Also, not sure I mentioned before but the tense shifts are for deliberate stylistic effect. It's kind of habitual at this point. **

_"Who is June Monroe? ...Did you know her?"_

_"Not anymore."_

_~Marta and Aaron, Bourne Legacy_

And while she kept encouraging him about his objective— never saying Bourne's name but he knew the objective that had been theirs from the start—Aaron remembered the woman he used to know. Outcome had taken her and destroyed her, but he wouldn't believe she was entirely gone.

"You don't have to do this anymore, June. Think about us. Okay? Just us." He wants to believe there's some of that old spark coming back into her deadened eyes. "You don't have to give them anything anymore. You don't owe _anything_. And it wasn't just you; it was us that made the same mistake. You know…" he grins at her, genuinely. "Outcome brought almost everything wrong, but you might've been the single right thing."

* * *

Aaron ambled along the path back to his quarters with slightly dampened clothes thrown over one shoulder. Most of the other trainees were at the messhall or enjoying downtime in their rooms after the six-mile run, preceded by two hours of gym. Good thing for the chems and their increased endurance or else he'd swear Outcome was doing a study on slow-method killing. He stopped when he saw another trainee coming from the women's showers, and particularly the fact that she had only a towel.

"Hey"

She hugged herself a bit more tightly, and for her part, managing to less self-conscious when he noticed her focus dipping below his face. "Hey"

"Stole your clothes in the shower? You must be a new recruit. I'm Aaron." He offered her a hand, keeping one at the knotted towel round his waist.

She glanced down at his proffered hand, readjusting the grip on her covering with a small laugh. "June"

"Oh right" He let his hand drop, cursing his stupidity. Couldn't those blue chems he was on make him less of an idiot around women? "Sorry…uh, you probably don't want to go across the compound like that. Mine's probably closer."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble… a shirt would be enough."

He opened the door a notch, checking to be sure Wes was gone before he ushered her in. "You'll need a key too if they locked you out. I've got a few extra skeletons."

"Sounds like this is a familiar routine." June caught the shirt and shorts tossed to her with another murmur of thanks; making her way to the bathroom, Aaron couldn't resist sneaking a glance at the towel barely skating her upper thigh.

"Familiar," he said to himself.

* * *

June nestled closer to him, letting him twine his fingers in hers. "It's that arrogance of yours that got you into this, Kenneth. You couldn't stop."

* * *

She'd always noticed the knocks his attitude had made him take. Usually it had been minor faults, but he'd gotten on the wrong side of the wrong people more often than they allowed.

_You want to be in here, prove you're something. _He had. Just…in the wrong way.

Soon they'd had enough of his mouth. One morning, they'd burst into his quarters and took away his chems before he took the daily dosage. It wasn't the greens so much he was worried about; and they knew.

"I don't see why you let yourself antagonize them. One of these days…Kenneth, you're so thick sometimes." June sat beside him on the bed, close enough for their bodies to meld together.

"They won't toss me from the program. I've kept up on physical so they'll notice that and with all chances…" he stares off into the distance, tearing at a ragged thumbnail. It was only for a day, right? Even if it spanned to two or more, he wouldn't degrade cognitively that fast. Or shouldn't. Back before the program…hell, he doesn't even want to remember what he'd been. One more screw-up and they could shove him back to the beginning. _'If you won't take this seriously, why should we waste time and resources? We pulled you in and you were the man that shouldn't have survived. All those other men in your unit and you had to be the one to survive.' 'Are you going to make the most of your opportunities or aren't you?' _And then where's he at? When her hip jostles against his, Aaron is stirred from his musing and sees June reaching for the gold casing at her neck. "Wait, June."

"Don't worry; I've been good." She tips two blues into his palm. "I only took green today and it's easy enough to misplace a chem. If they ask, I wasn't being careful and took an extra dosage. You need it more than I do."

If she gets reprimanded because of him… they know the risks they're playing, they know Outcome could call them out for it and pull them both from the program.

She's the only one who knows what it's like—what it _was_ like for Kenneth James Kitson before the bombing. No one, not even Wes would risk giving him blues. Aaron swallowed one, temporary placating his fears.

"Don't make them do this again. Kenneth…if you get pulled from the program, I don't want to do it alone."

_I don't want to trust anyone else_.

* * *

"You said it once—whatever happened, no matter what got thrown at us, you'd _never_ give up. There's no one else I trusted." He wants the June he knew back. Not this…this product that Outcome engineered.

"You're the only one I trusted," she speaks it into his skin, syllables almost muted.

* * *

He'd caught worried glances thrown in his direction during the two hours in gym—they'd always managed to steal places near each other—but this time he kept his distance. Lifting weights, bench-pressing, cardio…Aaron doesn't let himself rest more than a few minutes at a time. The longer he rests, the more his awareness of present is filled with the fears that devour his sleep. Two more participants had their chems pulled after being diagnosed as 'unfit for the program' even though he knew they'd had performance rates higher than his. It's just another sign that they'll pull anyone if they fall out of line. He's made a record of disorderly conduct—even if it's unintentional or _reasonable_, they don't care. Because he's figured out that it's not participants Outcome wants but drones; participation involves choice and they hate choices more than anything else.

"You've got to get a hold of yourself." June corners him in one of the hallways. "There's no reason to kill yourself over this. It was them who got pulled, not you."

She doesn't understand. Everyone just wants to look out for their own welfare, he thinks over and over. He knows it's not entirely true, but he can't help _but_ be masochistic at this point.

Over the next few days, as he pushes himself further against his limits, he finds ways to avoid her. Sleep evades him until he only can survive on the caffeine rush. Even he knows he can't last this for long; he's going to fall apart.

When it finally does happen, June is the one to find him in his room—Wes has been gone for several days by this point, after Aaron witnessed the cognitive degrade to the closest thing he had to a best friend—shivering against the clothes soaked to his skin, blood caked to his knuckles. The mirror in the bathroom has been reduced to slivers on the floor.

"You're going to make it through this." It becomes her mantra while she cleans up the glass, tries to hide the evidence and then coaxes him into dry clothes.

He hears her but the words take longer to register. On some level, he's reached the point where he doesn't want to be put back together. He could be Kenneth to the world again and resume his life as though nothing had happened.

June holds him, head pressed against her heart as she warms him beneath the sheets with her own heat.

"I saw Wes lose himself," he finally confesses. "I was there when the other participants were pulled out. It could be me next."

"It won't be."

* * *

Time can't be erased. And sometimes it can.

When he reminds her of the memories way back when, Aaron can see just a bit more of the light coming back into June's eyes. She could still be playing him but he isn't sure he cares at this point when everything else is on the line.

A few minutes of the past is all he wants—and when he begins to make the dozen promises against June's skin, it feels just like it was before. He wants her, more than anything in that moment, but when June asks for him, Aaron knows he can't do it without thinking of Marta.


End file.
